Exceeding Expectations
by ispeakimagination
Summary: In the aftermath of the War, two people slowly come to realise that they might be more alike than they ever thought. A second chance, the benefit of the doubt, and a push in the right direction, sometimes that's really all it takes for a person to exceed your expectations. But we all know Hermione Granger. Will an 'Exceeds Expectations' be good enough just this once?
1. Chapter one

Hey there, thanks for clicking on this story, I hope it will be worth your while! I would really appreciate feedback, positive comments and constructive criticism alike. However, please don't see this as an invitation to flame. I know we're on the internet, but I'm still human and receiving harsh comments is never nice. Please keep this in mind! If you don't like this story, that's absolutely okay, but please don't be rude about it. We can't all like the same, now can we? :)

Fair warning: If you want Draco and Hermione to be madly in love after five chapters, I'm sorry, this is not your story. I will try to stay true to the characters and take a realistically long road to make them not want to murder each other.

With that being said, I won't keep you any longer, so please, enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

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_**Chapter one**_

_**Monday, 31 August 1998**_

"Hermione, dear, tea is ready!"

Opening her eyes, Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest. Slightly shocked by the flashback she just had, she sat up from her bed and released some air. She ordered herself to be rational: her mother used this line every day. They had tea every day. Yes, she had said almost the exact same line moments before Hermione had altered her parents' memories, but it was time she was going to get over that. She had ultimately found them in Australia, she had reversed the spell, and while her parents had been shocked and terrified when she had explained everything to them, but at least they had forgiven her.

But even though they claimed to be okay, Hermione could hear them talk quietly at night. She could hear her mother cry, her father's comforting words. The fact that their daughter had been in danger from forces unknown to them were difficult for them to deal with. The fact that she had protected _them_ instead of the other way around was hard, but Hermione knew they would learn to accept it sooner or later. They were strong and rational people, they would eventually understand.

Hermione got up from her bed and made her way downstairs, and found her parents sitting at the kitchen table. She seated herself next to her dad, who smiled fondly at her before turning his attention back to the newspaper. Hermione took the cup that her mother had poured for her between both her hands and signed, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you okay, darling?"

She smiled faintly. "I'm fine, Mum, really. I just... I can't really process the thought of going back to Hogwarts without Harry and Ron. It feels strange, wrong, almost."

Her mother nodded, slightly frowning. Her dad put aside his newspaper and put his hand on her shoulder. "I don't believe Hogwarts can give them anything valuable anymore. They have been given a great honour, and from what we've gathered over the years, they never were very fond of school and homework to begin with. You will have a tough start without your best friends, yes, but you will manage. You always do," he concluded, pressing a kiss on her bushy hair.

Leaning against her Dad's shoulder, Hermione nodded, blinking the tears out of her eyes. Unlike all the summer holidays previous to the War, she hadn't seen Harry and Ron at all during this summer, and she missed them more than ever. There had been countless funerals they had attended, with Fred's being the last, and after that, they had parted ways. Harry had gone to see Andromeda Tonks. Being little Teddy's godfather, he had offered to help Andromeda raise Teddy, something the witch had gratefully accepted. She could use all the help she could get in these difficult times.

Ron and his family had left Aunt Muriel's home and they had gone back to the Burrow. The entire Weasley family was heartbroken, but they dealt with their grief together, and Hermione knew Ron needed that right now; just to be with his family.

The War had affected them very badly. Harry coped by spending every second of this time at the Ministry of Magic, where he had been offered the position of Auror, along with many others who had fought in the War, including Neville Longbottom. Ron had also been offered this position, and while he had accepted, he wasn't quite ready for it yet. Hermione felt pain in her stomach when she thought of Ron, the boy she loved so dearly, and the grief he was trying to cope with. Hermione had visited the Burrow a few times during the summer, but there were two faces she never saw: Ron and George.

Ron had always struggled with his emotions, but most of the time it was anger, or jealousy. Now he was overpowered by sadness, and only George and Mrs Weasley seemed to suffer more from losing Fred. The other members of the Weasley family were broken too, but they tried to stay strong for each other. Especially Ginny was strong. She had only allowed herself to cry two times, both times when no one else but Hermione was around, who admired her friend greatly for her strength.

But she missed Ron so much. Ginny had entrusted her that in a moment of intense sorrow, Ron had admitted to be deeply in love with Hermione, but he was unable to take their relationship further until he had given Fred's loss a place. He was slightly ashamed to be unable to comfort her, and to be there for her, which was why he hadn't allowed Hermione to see him, a decision that really upset her. Her feelings for Ron had been growing for years, and she was devastated that he didn't allow her to comfort him, though in her heart she understood; she herself had hidden in bathrooms on several occasions to cry without anyone noticing, though often without success.

_"Ironically,"_ she thought, _"the majority of those times I had been crying because of Ron..."_

Hermione dismissed her thoughts and tried to focus on her parents' conversation, trying to distract herself, which was something she did a lot lately. As much as she wanted to keep it hidden from her parents and friends, she too was greatly affected by the War. So many people had died, and so many awful things had happened. Her eyes wandered off to her left arm, the letters still visible as scars, but carefully hidden beneath the sleeve of her cardigan. Bellatrix Lestrange was long dead, but her actions weren't forgotten. The effects of her cruel intentions remained.

Even though she had told her parents a lot, she hadn't told them everything, by far. Hermione had left out a lot of incidents that had happened during her years at Hogwarts, or they would never allow her to return, and she needed to, she desperately needed to.

She half-noticed her Dad getting back to his newspaper, occasionally reading something to her Mum. Hermione stared at her cup, re-living memories from years at Hogwarts in contrast to last year, their difficult search for Horcruxes and all the complications they had to face. So much has happened to them in the past year, she wasn't sure whether she would be able to go back to school and study, almost like nothing happened. But she had to try. She needed this shot at normality, and she desperately longed for the familiar comfort the castle had given her all these years.

Her mother brushed through her hair, and Hermione looked up. Her tea had gotten cold, and her parents were about to go to bed.

"It's late, darling, and you have to get up early in the morning. You wouldn't want to miss the train, would you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I have duties to attend to," she smiled, feeling warm and proud for a moment, thinking about the little badge that had been enclosed with her letters from Hogwarts. Her mother smiled back and embraced her. "We are so proud of what you have achieved and how far you've come. It might not have been how you originally planned it to be, but I know this is a dream come true to you, and I hope you will enjoy it. You deserve it."

After returning her Mum's embrace, she followed her upstairs, said goodnight to her parents and entered her bedroom. Before she got into bed, she opened her trunk, took out her favourite book, and then snuggled up under the blankets, preparing herself for a year of Hogwarts without her two best friends while comforting herself with the words that described the magical place she would see again tomorrow, until she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer.

X X X

"Young Master Malfoy, Mistress has asked for you to come inside, sir," squeaked the little house-elf nervously.

Not acknowledging the house-elf or the message, Draco remained seated on the porch and stared out over the lands that belonged to his family. His father's albino peafowl had found a spot near the pond and had settled down for the night. The dark water was nearly motionless and reflected the crescent moon. It was a beautiful night, and Draco normally enjoyed a beautiful night.

Today he felt restless, nervous even. His mother had decided that he would return to Hogwarts to finish his education, an idea he didn't quite like. He knew it was necessary; he needed his N.E.W.T.s to be able to achieve something in life, for he had reluctantly accepted the fact that his last name no longer demanded respect. The Malfoy's social standing and their influence was gone. The decision his grandfather had made decades ago had been a wrong one, and they had foolishly continued this decision.

And they would forever carry the effects of that mistake.

Going back to Hogwarts after everything that had happened last year seemed silly. How was one supposed to go back to normal, every-day education after a war? And worse, how one supposed to go back to education after having played a key role in that war? Draco didn't care about what his fellow students thought of him, and he cared less about the opinion of the teachers, but he knew that they would not accept him being there, and he knew he wasn't going to get away with his usual behaviour anymore, the only thing that had helped him get through the years.

McGonagall had made sure of that.

She hadn't been fond of the idea of him returning to Hogwarts. She had initially rejected him, and with him, many other Slytherins she felt had gone wrong during the War. But Draco suspected that Dumbledore, even in death, had found a way to persuade her to _always seek out the good in people._ So she had accepted them after all, but still distrusted him, she had made that very clear. And he was going to be supervised in a very... original way.

Draco signed unhappily and reached inside his pockets, taking out a little badge that he wasn't supposed to have, in his own opinion. He stared at it and thought about what McGonagall had said in the letter.

"_You are aware of the duties that come with the title, Mr Malfoy. These duties will ensure that I am able to monitor your every move. I will instruct the Head Girl to supervise you and to report your behaviour to me. Because she will be unable to do so when you are residing in your current dormitories in the Slytherin dungeons, I have arranged a separate common room with adjacent dormitories. You will not be allowed to leave the common room after curfew. This decision is also made to keep you away from temptation and peer-pressure you may receive from your fellow Slytherin mates. More information on this matter shall be given upon arrival at school. Enclosed you will find a list of your main duties, starting on Platform 9¾."_

What had the world come to? He was appointed Head Boy, which should be a great honour, but instead, McGonagall had chosen to punish him with it. He was never supposed to be Head Boy, just like he was never supposed to be a Prefect, which was entirely because of Snape, who favoured him and Pansy. Draco was intelligent, and his grades were certainly above average, but he wasn't fit for a position which gave him the power to control others.

He didn't have to guess who the Head Girl was going to be. Chances were she was going to return, being the studious person he knew she was, she would want to finish her education. Draco sincerely hoped she would decide against, and he would be partnered with a Ravenclaw girl.

"Draco."

Turning around, he looked up at his mother, who was standing in the doorway, her robes wrapped around her to stay warm against the chilly wind.

"It's late, my dear, please come inside."

He stood up and followed his mother inside. Bidding her goodnight, he immediately made his way through the Manor, to his bedroom. He pinned the badge on his school robes, undressed and got into bed. Though dreading what the morning would bring, he was able to empty his head, and fell asleep quickly.

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A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate.


	2. Chapter two

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

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_**Chapter two**_

_**Tuesday, 1 September 1998**_

"Shhh, Crookshanks, only a few more minutes until we're on the train and then I'll release you."

Hermione sat in front of her trunk and the cage that held her large ginger-coloured cat Crookshanks. As always when he was caged, he was very moody, and he meowed angrily at her every now and then.

"Look, Hermione, your friend Ginny and her parents have arrived," observed her father, looking into the distance. Hermione got up and searched for her red-haired friend in the crowd, finding her quickly. She scanned the crowd for a fourth face, but was disappointed.

Ron wasn't there.

Ginny arrived and embraced her friend tightly. "It's so good to see you again, Hermione! I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Ginny!" smiled Hermione. "Hello Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley," she continued, embracing both of them briefly.

Hermione looked at Ginny, who noticed the sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione," she said softly, knowing she had hoped to see Ron. "He came downstairs briefly to say goodbye, and then went back to his room immediately." She shook her head. "He's not doing well, I wish there was something we could do..."

Mrs Weasley caught their conversation and touched Hermione's cheek. "He'll get better, dear. It will just take time."

Hermione nodded, fighting back her tears. She didn't want to break down, not now, not in front of the Weasleys. They were so strong, she felt obligated to stay strong too. Mr and Mrs Weasley both looked so exhausted, as if they both carried the weight of the entire world on their shoulders. She could only imagine how they must be feeling. They really didn't deserve losing one of their sons, it was unfair.

Ginny and Hermione watched as their parents had a chat with each other, sometimes linking in. Hermione noticed her mother and Mrs Weasley have an animated conversation, and she smiled at the enthusiasm of her father and Mr Weasley's conversation. It was great to see how her parents got along with the Weasleys.

"It's ten to eleven, time to go, before you two miss the train" said Mr Weasley after a while, looking at his wristwatch. Hermione turned to her parents to say her goodbyes and then reached for her things, while Ginny took hers. Hermione noticed the little birdcage on top of Ginny's trunk that held Pigwidgeon, and felt her heart sink at the thought that Ron was apparently so miserable that he couldn't even take care of his little owl.

Hermione waved at her parents one last time and then followed the Weasleys through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten, and found herself, a second later, standing on Platform 9¾.

The sight of the bright red Hogwarts Express calmed her down a bit, and for the first time Hermione really felt excited to go back. She followed Ginny to the luggage compartment, left her trunk behind and carried Crookshank's cage to the entrance of the train, where Ginny was saying her goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Weasley. When a whistle rang, Hermione quickly hugged them goodbye and boarded the train. She followed Ginny to an empty compartment, closed the door and released Crookshanks from his cage. Ginny did the same with Pigwidgeon, who immediately started to fly in circles above her head. Crookshanks settled down next to Hermione, following the tiny owl with his eyes. Hermione watched Pigwidgeon circle once more before he finally calmed down again and landed on top of Ginny's head.

"I really don't know where that tiny thing gets all that energy," she laughed, taking him from her head, putting him on top of his cage.

"So," she said, eyeing Hermione mysteriously. "Guess what?"

"What?" Hermione smiled.

Ginny presented a little badge. "I got the position of Quidditch captain!"

Hermione smiled brightly, genuinely happy for her friend. "That's amazing Ginny, congratulations! Of course, you were the only Gryffindor worthy of replacing Harry, he would agree to that."

Ginny grinned. "That's right! I'm really happy, we both started the year with great honours; let's hope it will continue to be this great."

"Let's hope so indeed," Hermione nodded. Ginny opened her bag and took out a magazine. The cover showed a determined looking, dark-skinned witch in yellow Quidditch robes that Hermione recognized as Gwenog Jones, the beater of the all-female team the Holyhead Harpies. She had met Gwenog at one of the Slug Club meetings in her sixth year, and she hadn't been too impressed with the woman, who had been a bit full of herself, but she knew Ginny idolized her.

Even though Ginny wasn't Harry and Ron, Hermione was glad that the girl was here. They had grown to be close friends over the years, when Hermione had stayed in Ginny's room during her frequent visits to the Burrow during summer vacations, and when they had stared a tent at the Quidditch World Cup. They had quickly become each other's confidantes, and Hermione found that she appreciated the female company. She loved Harry and Ron dearly, and they were without a doubt her very best friends, but they were still boys, and sometimes Hermione just needed a break from them. Yes, she appreciated Ginny a lot.

She checked her wristwatch and decided to get ready to attend the prefects meeting that would be starting in about half an hour. After quickly changing into her robes and pinning her Head Girl badge onto them, Hermione left the compartment.

Making her way through the train, she stopped at several compartments to greet classmates and old friends. When she had almost reached the prefect compartments, a door slid open, and she found herself facing Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she abruptly stopped. Malfoy said nothing, he merely stared at her. She watched how his eyes fixed upon her Head Girl badge, and then noticed a similar badge on his robes.

"You're Head Boy," she observed out loud, unable to hide her disappointment.

Malfoy nodded, and Hermione noticed how his expression stayed neutral, in contrast to their fifth year, when he had worn a smug smile when she and Ron had discovered that he was a Slytherin prefect.

"Great," she muttered, moving past him, not really knowing how to respond to this discovery. One part of her was shocked; another part of her was a bit angry. She was also surprised by his lack of reply, which seemed very un-Malfoy like.

Not allowing herself to wander on her thoughts, she entered the prefects' compartment, which was already packed with students. She waited for Malfoy to enter the compartment and then turned to the prefects.

"Good morning everyone, welcome back," she smiled. "Let's keep this short and simple, all the sixth- and seventh years are on train patrol duty as of now. Upon arrival in Hogsmeade, the seventh-years will check the train for students or luggage, and the sixth-years will guide the students to either Professor Hagrid or the carriages."

The older students left the compartment again. Pansy Parkinson took her time, glaring hatefully at Hermione as she walked past her, but HerImione was not impressed. When the pug-faced girl had finally left, Hermione briefly glanced up at Malfoy, who looked back at her, his face still expressionless. She wasn't going to get any assistance from him, she concluded.

She turned back to the remaining prefects and introduced herself and Malfoy, and then went on to explain them their main duties, such as patrolling the hallways at Hogwarts and guiding the first year students to their common rooms, as well as the rules they had to stick to. After about 30 minutes, and no questions, she dismissed them.

"You are probably feeling ecstatic right now, aren't you Granger? Getting to boss people around, telling them what to do..."

Hermione frowned at Malfoy, and saw a hint of his former smug countenance. "Save it, Malfoy, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of arguing with you, but please note that our duties are shared, and I would appreciate it if you would contribute." She paused for a moment, staring at his badge. "I can't believe that out of all students, you're the one Professor McGonagall picked for the position of Head Boy," she muttered.

"It's not like I'm joyous about having to share the majority of my time with you, Granger. It's not exactly an honour," came his cold reply.

"You might want to revise your opinion, Malfoy, because we both know this position _is_ in fact an honour. You don't deserve it," countered Hermione sharply. "And you will _not _misuse your title again. Not on my watch," she added.

"Still the bossy Mudblood, I see," Malfoy drawled, a slight hint of anger in his voice.

Hermione glared at him. "This is getting really old, Malfoy, you don't have to remind me of my blood status on every occasion. I am well aware, and your dear aunt ensured that I will never forget." She pulled up her left sleeve, revealing the scars to him.

Malfoy briefly looked down at her arm, and Hermione noticed how his smug expression disappeared completely. He looked back up, his cold, grey eyes meeting hers. Then he abruptly turned around and walked away from the compartment.

Hermione looked down at her arm herself and traced the letters that spelled _'Mudblood'_. Her heart was racing, and she felt sick to her stomach. Her response had been very impulsive, and while it had the effect she had hoped for, she had not only confronted him, but also herself, after having avoided them by keeping them carefully hidden beneath clothing all summer. She pulled down her sleeve, took a deep breath, and made her way back to her compartment.

While walking back, Hermione noticed how disappointed she felt. This partnership wasn't what she had hoped for, and it was quite a stain on her Head Girl position. She had never truly hated Malfoy, but she did dislike him very much. Though he had never bullied her the way he had always bullied Harry and Ron, simply because, unlike them, she refused to be bullied, he had been very nasty to her, too. She was angry at him for the things he had done during their sixth year, which had harmed many people, including Ron, but at the same time she realised that it was not entirely his fault. He had been in an awful position, and under ridiculously high amounts of pressure, and Hermione wasn't sure she would have handled the situation better, had she been in his position. She had done drastic things to ensure her parents' safety too, but she had been given opportunities he never had.

Malfoy had definitely suffered a lot during the War too, and she was certain that he wasn't purely evil like Harry and Ron always accused him of being, but she wasn't at all happy with the fact that he was appointed Head Boy, and she would make sure to tell Professor McGonagall, hoping she had good reasons for this decision.

She arrived at her compartment and was happy to see that Luna was with Ginny. Crookshanks had settled upon Luna's lap, who was scratching him behind his ears, something he enjoyed immensely. Hermione opened the door and was greeted with two bright smiles. She sat down and greeted Luna warmly. "How have you been, Luna? And how's your father?" she asked her.

"I'm fine, thank you. Dad too. He was quite shaken at first. But he's better now. We travelled through Scandinavia for a few weeks and that seemed to do him well. He is just happy that I'm unharmed." She paused briefly, smiling at the purring cat on her lap. "Oh, and Neville visited me over the holidays," she then added absent-mindedly, as a mere afterthought.

Ginny grinned. "Did he now?" She smiled knowingly at Hermione, who had been informed that Neville had confessed to Ginny and Harry, in the midst of the Battle, to be mad about Luna."

"Yes, it was quite lovely. I like Neville. I'll miss him this year."

Hermione and Ginny nodded in agreement. They all remained silent for a while. Ginny was petting Pigwidgeon with one finger, making the little owl hoot affectionately.

Hermione then decided to break the news.

"Malfoy is Head Boy."

Ginny's eyes widened, while Luna simply continued to scratch behind Crookshank's ears, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had spent months locked up in his family's basement.

"I don't believe this," Ginny said accusingly. "These students are chosen because of their academic achievements, outstanding reputation as a student, and an honest, good, and hard-working personality. We _are_ talking about the same Malfoy, aren't we? Where has he hidden his _outstanding reputation_ and _honest, good and hard-working_ personality? Because I've never seen them."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Ginny's rant, though she was absolutely right. It was one thing to be intelligent and to perform well in classes, but they were also supposed to be an example to the entire student body. She had expected Anthony Goldstein to receive the honour, since he was, and always had been the embodiment of what the Head Boy was supposed to be like.

They moved on to more cheerful subjects and had a good laugh when Crookshanks started to hunt after a chocolate frog, and managed to completely cover himself in chocolate. After Hermione finally got out the last bits of chocolate, the train began to slow down, a sign they were almost there, and that her Head Girl duties would continue.

Luna offered to take Crookshanks, which Hermione gratefully accepted. She left the compartment and stationed a prefect at every door. When she noticed that Malfoy was actually doing what he was supposed to do, albeit in a slightly rude manner, she had a little hope that _maybe_ this was going to work out after all.

The train came to a halt, and the prefects opened the doors, letting the students off the train, guiding them towards their destination. Hagrid waved enthusiastically at her from the beginning of the platform, where he was surrounded by tiny first year students. Hermione briefly waved back, smiling fondly.

When all the students seemed to have made their way to the carriages, and the seventh year prefects had checked the train, Hermione motioned them towards the carriages as well. Malfoy was walking beside Parkinson, and she noticed that they both had glum faces, but she didn't pay too much attention to them, as Padma Patil greeted her. They had a friendly and light conversation. When they reached the carriages, the atmosphere changed noticeably.

Hannah Abbott gasped and grabbed Ernie Macmillan's arm, who was visibly upset as well, though he tried to comfort Hannah.

Padma inhaled sharply, Anthony Goldstein looked away, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, causing Parkinson to walk into him. She cursed, and then saw Malfoy's facial expression. She looked around, seemingly confused.

"What's wrong with all of you?"

Malfoy turned around, frowning. "You don't see it?"

"See _what?_" Parkinson replied, obviously annoyed.

Anthony Goldstein frowned at her as well. "There is a Thestral right in front of you, Parkinson."

"A what?"

Hermione groaned. "A Thestral, a breed of winged horses with a skeletal body, a face reptilian features and bat-like, leathery wings. They are visible only to people who have witnessed, and accepted, a death."

"I have not accepted anything," Hannah sobbed quietly. Ernie hugged her close, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Padma stared at the Thestral with a painful expression on her face. "Are they safe?" she asked Hermione quietly.

Hermione nodded. "They are just... misunderstood."

Meanwhile, Parkinson had become even more annoyed, apparently unable to accept that she wasn't able to see something that everyone else did see. She mimicked Hermione's explanation in a childish high-pitched voice and then folded her arms. Hermione looked at her, annoyed with the girl's childish behaviour. She then noticed that Malfoy was shooting Parkinson a warning glare, which the girl seemed to challenge for a moment, but then she seemed to realise something, suddenly looking regretful.

"Let's get moving, guys, we don't want to be late for the feast," Anthony suggested, gently pushing Padma and Hermione towards the closest carriage. Malfoy and Parkinson made their way to the other carriage, followed by Ernie and Hannah. The latter seemed to have calmed down, though her eyes were still red.

Hermione climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Padma, and when Anthony sat down next to her, the carriage began to move.

"And I honestly believed that these carriages were magically guided..." Padma mused. Anthony nodded thoughtfully and then looked at Hermione, who remained silent, with a questioning look on his face.

"Harry saw them first in our fifth year. We thought he went mad... But then later that year they were discussed in Care of Magical Creatures. I couldn't see them, though, not until now."

"Diggory?"Anthony asked quietly. Hermione nodded.

They sat in silence as they neared Hogwarts. Upon arriving on the school grounds, they jumped out of the carriage. Hermione noticed a giant silhouette making its way towards them.

"Hagrid!" she called out, smiling. The Ravenclaws were less enthusiastic, but both smiled politely up at him. Hannah and Ernie made their way to them as well, while Malfoy and Parkinson lingered near the carriage, both with sour looks on their face.

"Hey Hermione, hey guys, how 're yeh all?" Hagrid smiled, his eyes glinting. "I'll be needin' the Head Boy an' Girl for sealing the gate," he continued, looking from Hermione to Anthony, obviously assuming the Ravenclaw boy had gotten the title.

Hermione gave him a nervous smile. "He's not the Head Boy, Hagrid. Malfoy is."

Staring down at her, Hagrid's eyes became dark. "Are yeh kiddin' me?" He turned around, glared at Malfoy, and then turned back to Hermione. "That kid's Head Boy?"

Malfoy was clearly struggling to refrain from giving a reply, and Hermione was surprised that he actually remained silent while he walked up to them.

Hagrid informed them of the spells they had to use, and after a few minutes, the gate was properly sealed and they all made their way to the castle.

The grounds looked just as they always had, and it was like the Battle never happened. The castle itself had suffered a lot too, but it had been restored to its former glory. Hermione found it to be very comforting that there were no visible traces of the War. Hogwarts seemed, once again, to be their safe haven.

They entered the Entrance Hall through the huge oak front doors and crossed it to enter the Great Hall. Most students had already settled down, and the prefects all made their way to their own House table. Hagrid waved goodbye to Hermione and walked up to the staff table. Professor McGonagall was seated in the chair that had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore, and while it was slightly strange to see someone else in his place, Hermione was glad that it was Professor McGonagall, and not someone else. She had spotted Ginny at the Gryffindor table and started making her way toward her friend, when Lavender Brown was suddenly standing beside her.

The girl had a tired expression on her face, and she was very pale, but otherwise looked healthy. Without saying a single word, she wrapped her arms around Hermione and hugged her dorm mate close. Hermione gasped slightly, and hesitantly put her arms around Lavender, patting her on her back when she realised the girl was crying. They had never been more than just dorm mates, and while Hermione was glad to see that Lavender was alive, she felt uncomfortable.

"You saved me..." Lavender sobbed into Hermione's shoulder, and the tears and gratefulness could not mask the wonder and surprise.

"Of course I did," Hermione answered softly, remembering how she blasted away Fenrir Greyback before he had the chance to sink his teeth into Lavender's flesh, as he had intended.

After a short embrace they let go of each other, and Lavender stared at her with tearful eyes. "Thank you," she said, and then repeated it again in a whisper. Parvati helped her back in her seat, smiling gratefully at Hermione, who smiled back. She walked a bit further and sat down next to Ginny, who was sitting with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, and two of her dorm mates that Hermione knew as well, Jennifer Dawn and Jada Angela, the latter being a sixth year prefect.

Hermione sat down, greeting Dean and Seamus enthusiastically. They were the only two boys of her year to return for their seventh year, and while they weren't Harry and Ron, Hermione had always liked them too, and she had and Dean had become good friends during their time in the Shell Cottage together. The doors of the Great Hall opened and a female Professor they didn't know walked in, followed by a long line of tiny, nervous-looking first-years.

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

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A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate.


	3. Chapter three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

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_**Chapter three**_

Followed by Pansy, Draco made his way to the Slytherin table, and sat down beside a thin, pale boy, who was resting his head on his left hand, looking rather bored. He looked up when Draco sat down and nodded at him in acknowledgement.

Pansy sat down next to Draco, looking a bit unsure of herself, which was a first.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" she said with clear reluctance.

He looked at her with one raised eyebrow. "For what?"

"For being insensitive? I don't know? What do you want me to say?" she exclaimed desperately. Several heads turned eagerly, looking where the drama was coming from. When Draco didn't reply, she gave an exaggerated sigh and stood up, seating herself a bit further down the table, between her dorm mates.

The pale boy, Theodore Nott, turned around, facing Draco, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "What was that all about?"

"Pansy is _annoyed_ because she can't see the _Thestrals_," groaned Draco.

"Ah," replied Nott softly. "Yeah, they caused quite the stir earlier."

Draco said nothing, remembering that the boy next to him had been able to see the creatures ever since they first arrived at Hogwarts. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Nott greeted Zabini, who sat down opposite of them.

"You're late," observed Nott.

Zabini slightly raised his eyebrows in an arrogant manner. "Everyone else was simply early," he stated matter-of-factly. Draco snorted, and the three boys all smirked. Then the doors of the Great Hall opened and an unknown female Professor walked in, followed by a long line of tiny first-years.

When the Professor reached the staff table, she turned around, explained the Sorting Ceremony to the new students, gesturing to the old Sorting Hat, and began reading names from the list in her hand.

The first new student to be Sorted was a little nervous-looking girl with brown pigtails. She nearly tripped on her way up to the stool. Upon touching her head, the Sorting Hat immediately declared her a Ravenclaw, and the concerning House table burst into applause.

Draco didn't pay much attention to the Sorting Ceremony, which he didn't find very interesting, but did – although unenthusiastically – join in with his House when the people around him started to applaud for new Slytherin students. At one point he noticed that one particular girl was seated on the stool for a rather long time before finally being sorted into Gryffindor. Time passed, and Draco's stomach started to growl. When the last student, a little boy with black curls, got Sorted into Hufflepuff, the Professor removed the stool and the Sorting Head out of sight and seated herself at the staff table, while the students silently awaited McGonagall's speech.

"Good evening, new students: welcome, and, to our old students: welcome back to a new year. Before we start with our Welcoming Feast, I would like to make an announcement and introduce some new faces. In the midst of the Battle, we lost many great witches and wizards, amongst them our dear colleague, Professor Selina Sapworthy. She will be remembered as an exceptionally skilled witch, who taught with great passion."

A few seats removed from her, the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, let out a sad howl and then rested her forehead on the table, her shoulders shaking.

"Unfortunately, finding qualified witches and wizards in her field of expertise, who were also willing to take up her position, was such a difficult task, that it is with regret that I have to inform you that Hogwarts will no longer be teaching Xylomancy."

Quite a few students made disappointed faces, which surprised Draco. He didn't know there was such interest in the subject, which was often described as an overlooked type of divination.

"We have, however," McGonagall continued in a somewhat more positive manner, "managed to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Please welcome Professor Grimilda Merrythought."

The student body applauded politely, and a middle-aged woman who sat beside McGonagall stood up and received the applause with a modest smile. Whispers sounded, and Draco knew it was because people recognized her last name.

"She is indeed the granddaughter of the well-known Professor Galatea Merrythought, who taught the same subject here, at Hogwarts, from 1895 until 1945," the Headmistress elucidated.

"I would like to introduce Professor Astrid Wilberforce, who will be teaching Muggle Studies," – an old woman stood up; nodded politely at the applause she received and sat back down again. – "...and our new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Bernice Copperfield."

The female Professor that had Sorted the first-years – another middle-aged woman – stood up, a stern look on her face. She gave a small nod as well and sat down again, as did McGonagall. Out of nowhere, food appeared on the tables, earning appreciative sounds from the students, who started to fill their plates as if they hadn't eaten in months.

It was during the feast that Draco noticed how empty the Slytherin table was compared to the other Houses. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had a remotely full table, but the Gryffindor table was only filled for about two-third, and Slytherin seemed to miss about half of its students. Normally the loudest table, the Slytherin table now seemed to be the quietest, however, Draco was painfully aware of the fact that most of the people were, at varying points during the meal, talking about him. They weren't even being subtle about it.

Not that he had expected them to be.

The three seventh-year boys ate in silence. Though they could get along just fine, they never hung out much. Nott was a bit of a loner, he had made it clear early on that he only had one goal: graduate with good results and hope for a chance to prove his worth without being judged for his surname. He was a smart guy, and Draco knew that Nott should have been Prefect instead of him.

Zabini, on the other hand, though quite intelligent, didn't care much for his education. His mother was rich, and Zabini was under the impression that he didn't need to graduate, for they had enough money for him to never have to work at all. His mother, though, didn't agree, and she had forced him to go back to school to gain his N.E.W.T.s. He generally acted like he was superior to everyone else – Draco suspected that he actually felt that he was – and he usually kept to himself as well.

Draco himself found that he was a bit of a mixture of his two dorm mates. He knew he was intelligent, and he was interested in the subjects he was taking. He knew that he would never have to work to support himself, but he also knew full well that his family no longer enjoyed the social standing they used to have. His name would get him nowhere, not anymore, except Azkaban, if he didn't watch himself. So if he wanted to achieve something in life, he needed to do well in his final exams.

He had no idea where he would end up, but he knew that he would have to work hard for it. His Head Boy appointment may have been suspicious, and it may not have been for the right reasons, but if he could somehow make the best of it, he could use it to his advantage.

At least, he hoped so. Achieving that, however, would most probably prove to be quite the challenge.

"So, Head Boy, huh," Zabini interrupted his thoughts, once again voicing his disbelief, as he had before on the train when he first discovered it, his eyes trailing down to the badge.

Draco grimaced. At least his father was somewhat proud, but he had never told him the real reason for becoming Head Boy, nor was he going to. Lucius was on probation, and on top of that he seemed to be quite depressed. He was grateful that his family was unharmed, but the fact that he had lost his social standing and influence was hard for him. He had isolated himself from the world, and from his family as well. It was strange, seeing as he always liked to meddle with everything.

On the other hand, it wasn't strange at all. Draco knew his father felt humiliated, as did he. He had always enjoyed the power that came with the name, and now his name would do nothing but the opposite. He would be judged in an entirely different manner. It made him feel powerless and hollow.

No, the Malfoys were but a fraction of what they used to be.

"Some Ravenclaw guy is probably sobbing himself to sleep tonight," added Zabini with a nasty smirk on his face.

"Whoever wants it can have it," said Draco softly, looking down at the badge on his robes in disgust. "I didn't even want to come back this year, let alone fulfil a bunch of duties."

"Under the observant eye of the little Gryffindor Mudblood," added Nott with a sneer.

Draco closed his eyes in annoyance and tried to ignore the sound of his two dorm mates laughing with malicious pleasure. Yes, he would be under the observant eye of Granger, and if he would have dreaded that before, he dreaded it even more now. He knew he owed her; he owed all of them, Potter and Weasley too. He would never say it out loud or admit it to anyone, but he knew it, and it killed him inside.

He knew she meant what she had said on the train; she would not let him misuse his title. He suspected that he would have to behave his very best, or she would be at McGonagall before he knew it.

It just couldn't work out well for him.

Granger had a way of getting under his skin, a way of seeing right through him. She had a way of taking all control away from him. She was unpredictable.

He hated it.

Without really noticing, his eyes wandered off to the Gryffindor table and found her, surrounded by friends, talking animatedly. He would never understand how things had turned out so well for her. All his life he had been taught that her kind was far below him, that he was better than her, and that people like her would never achieve great things.

And there she as, proving him wrong in everything, and she didn't even know.

While Draco finished off his dessert – chocolate éclairs and some vanilla ice cream – McGonagall had stood up again and started to explain the rules. The Forbidden Forest was still forbidden, as was using magic in the corridors. First-years were excluded from participating in Quidditch, and additionally, McGonagall announced that every student had to attend at least one mandatory meeting with a grief counsellor, to determine whether further counselling was needed.

He had dreaded that. If there was one thing he didn't do, it was talking about how he felt. He wasn't going to tell some counsellor that he had nightmares from different events, one of which being Crabbe's death. Hopefully he could bluff his way through the meeting and avoid further meetings.

The students around him started to leave the table, and he vaguely noticed Pansy shooting him a glare before she started pushing the fifth-year prefects towards the entrance of the Great Hall to gather the first-years. Nott and Zabini looked down at Draco, puzzled that he had remained seated.

"I have to wait for McGonagall, we have a meeting," he said simply.

The two boys shrugged and made their way over to the group of first-years that had gathered around Pansy, who was grumpily ordering them to follow her.

As the Great Hall emptied, Draco's eyes found Granger again, sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. She was looking at him, frowning, looking slightly worried. She then sighed, stood up, and made her way to the staff table, where McGonagall was talking to the new Transfiguration teacher, Copperfield. He decided to copy her move, and stood up as well.

As he neared the professors and Granger he heard how McGonagall introduced Granger to Copperfield, who enthusiastically shook her hand, exclaiming that she had already heard all about the young witch.

Of course she had; the papers had been full of stories about her and her friends.

"Good evening, Mr Malfoy, may I introduce you to Professor Copperfield?" said McGonagall when he reached them, pursing her lips, a disapproving frown on her face.

"Pleased to meet you," said Draco softly, shaking the woman's hand.

"Likewise, Mr Malfoy," the woman answered, studying him. She then turned to McGonagall. "Well, I better go finish unpacking my things. Tomorrow 7 a.m., you said?" When McGonagall nodded, she smiled. "Alright, good night then, Minerva, Ms Granger, Mr Malfoy..."

As the professor strolled off, McGonagall asked them to follow her. They made their way to the third floor in silence, and upon reaching an ugly stone gargoyle, McGonagall halted.

"Murilegus."

The gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a slowly ascending circular stone staircase. Draco followed McGonagall and Granger up the stairs, halting once more upon reaching the double oak doors that concealed the Headmistress' office. McGonagall opened them, and he followed Granger inside.

"Please have a seat," McGonagall said, unrolling the Sorting Hat and putting it on a shelf behind the enormous desk that stood in front of them. The Hat moved a little – apparently getting comfortable – and then remained motionless again.

Draco sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk, feeling slightly nervous. He felt outnumbered; sitting here with two people he knew didn't particularly like him. He was determined to avoid looking at Granger, and somehow he had the feeling that she was doing the same thing with him.

McGonagall sat down behind her desk and took off her glasses, polishing them with the hem of her robes. "The first true Hatstall in 52 years, how long did the poor girl sit on the stool?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Nearly six-and-a-half minutes, I ultimately decided to break the tie based on her personal preference," the Sorting Hat answered.

"Six-and-a-half minutes..." McGonagall shook her head, smiling. "I expect we will see great things from her." She looked up at Granger. "You had to remain seated for quite a while too, didn't you?"

Granger smiled back. "Nearly four minutes, I believe. A near Hatstall."

The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before Sorting him in Slytherin. Draco would have been insulted if it had taken the old Hat any longer; he had known he was a Slytherin long before he had come to Hogwarts. He didn't fit anywhere else.

The room had gone silent again, apart from the sound of moving parchment, as McGonagall was looking through a pile. When she found what she was looking for, she looked up at them.

"Now, Mr Malfoy, Ms Granger. I can imagine you are both quite unhappy with the arrangements of pairing you two. Ms Granger, I'm sure you have questions."

"I do," said the girl softly, suddenly sounding tired, staring straight at the Headmistress. "Why him?"

McGonagall glanced at Draco. She then turned around, facing the large portrait that hung directly behind her desk. "Albus, if you please," she said.

Draco felt the blood leave his face, and he shivered, even though it was comfortably warm in the office. He had avoided looking at the portrait, and he still was. He could not face the old wizard.

"Draco."

He couldn't.

"Draco, look at me," urged Dumbledore, though his voice remained gentle.

His heart pounded in his chest, he was sure that everyone could hear it. He inhaled sharply, and with the greatest effort, he looked up, meeting the former Headmaster's blue eyes.

"I'm sorry."

McGonagall gasped and Granger abruptly turned her head at him. He stared at Dumbledore, shaking, stunned, unable to speak, not understanding why the old man had just apologized to him.

"You may remember, that during our final conversation, atop the Astronomy Tower, I mentioned that I was aware of your mission, but did not dare to confront you, for I did not want to endanger you any further," said the wizard.

Draco somehow managed to nod his head.

"By now I trust that you are aware that Severus Snape was indeed acting on my orders, and that he – how shall I put this – took care of your _unfinished business_ to protect you, because I had asked him to."

Another nod.

"I sincerely wish I had confronted you sooner. I should have. The Order of the Phoenix would have protected you and family, and you would have been spared at great deal of unpleasantness. Please, forgive me for that."

He didn't know how to respond. What was he supposed to say? He had never, not even for a second, blamed Dumbledore for what happened to him. He gulped and took a deep breath, then nodded once more.

Seemingly content with his response, Dumbledore turned his attention to Granger, who had a shocked expression on her face, and apparently couldn't process what had just happened. In all honestly, he couldn't blame her – he felt the same.

"Now, Ms Granger, on to your question as to why I have picked Mr Malfoy for the position of Head Boy, which, I realise, doesn't seem to be the most logical decision."

"I had always expected Harry, or at least Anthony..." muttered Granger softly, glancing sideways at him, looking slightly embarrassed for saying this in front of him.

Again, he couldn't blame her. He never asked for the bloody badge.

"Ah yes, Mr Goldstein seems perfect for the job, doesn't he?" mused Dumbledore. "I'm not sure whether Harry would have been fit, I didn't want to trouble him with Prefect duties, not immediately after what happened to Mr Diggory, and it doesn't seem fair to have done it now, does it? Of course, he decided against returning, and while Mr Goldstein would indeed have been proven most competent, I decided to choose Mr Malfoy instead."

Draco was staring at the claw-footed desk in front of him, his heart still pounding. So it wasn't just McGonagall's idea of punishment, it had been Dumbledore's decision. He wondered why.

"First and foremost, he simply is, and always has been, an excellent student." Draco smirked; he couldn't help it. He noticed that Granger had opened her mouth to argue, but she was not given a chance to interject.

"I am aware, Ms Granger, that Mr Malfoy indeed lacks an outstanding and honest reputation, as am I aware that he enjoyed misusing his Prefect title all too much. However, as I feel that I could have done more to keep Mr Malfoy out of harm's way, I thought this could perhaps be a motivating push in the right direction – a step towards a better future."

Granger kept silent, and Draco worked up some courage to look up, and saw that the former Headmaster was giving him a piercing look over his half-moon spectacles. He brought his hands together, looking at them over his fingertips.

"To try to motivate him further, Professor McGonagall has made the suggestion that we keep Mr Malfoy away from the Slytherin dungeons as much as possible – young men and peer-pressure, I'm sure you understand what I mean, Ms Granger – and we would like you to keep an eye on him, and monitor his progress," he concluded.

"Why me?"

"Ah, Ms Granger, you are the embodiment of Head Girl. In addition, you have proven to be able to deal with matters far worse than this. We believe you to be the right person for this task."

The girl next to him sighed in defeat. "So where is he going to stay? To what extent do I have to monitor his behaviour?"

And then he realised. _She didn't know._

For a split second Draco felt sorry for Granger. At least he had been able to prepare for this during the summer holidays, whereas she would be thrown into an undesirable position right away, without time to wrap her head around it.

It was McGonagall who spoke. "I have arranged for a separate common room with adjacent dormitories."

Grander didn't respond. She stared at the Headmistress, and then glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait, giving him a pleading look. When she received no response, she stood up. "Please excuse me for a minute," she muttered before hurrying out of the office.

McGonagall sat back and rubbed her forehead. "We should have informed her beforehand," she sighed.

"Perhaps we should have, indeed," said Dumbledore distantly.

"Why didn't you?" Draco immediately bit his tongue. "Professor," he added quickly.

"We wanted to give Ms Granger the most pleasant holidays possible, considering how she has spent most of last year, and what she has been through." Apparently sensing that he was wondering why he hadn't been given the same thoughtfulness, she frowned at him. "You knew from the start that your actions would demand certain consequences, for Ms Granger this feels as though she's being punished without having done anything, and I can certainly understand that."

Draco crossed his arms and huffed. He knew McGonagall had a point, but her words stung. Yes, he had been happy to join the Death Eaters at first, but he had regretted it the moment he was in. He genuinely wondered how his father had endured it for all those years.

"Let's discuss your timetable in the meantime, hopefully Ms Granger will return shortly, so I can escort you two to your new accommodations," said McGonagall. She reached for a piece of parchment and studied it for a moment. "You already attended your seventh year – at least for a while – do you wish to go through with those classes?"

He nodded.

"Very well." She tapped her wand on a blank timetable, which now carried the details of his classes. "You will notice that I have added one additional class – it's only one extra hour, Mr Malfoy, don't give me that look," she said upon seeing his face, a warning edge to her voice. "I feel this is crucial for your personal development. You will have to catch up on the curriculum, so I recommend that you seek out the Professor to ask for extra assignments. You will not be taking N.E.W.T.s for this class, but there will be examinations at the end of every term."

She handed him his timetable. Draco felt a knot in his stomach when he took it and searched for the class he suspected she was referring to. He swallowed when he found it.

Muggle Studies.

He should have seen it coming.

"I trust you will give it your best effort," concluded McGonagall, when a knock on the door interrupted her.

"Enter," she called.

Granger entered the office again, looking surprisingly composed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she said, sounding embarrassed.

"It's quite alright, Ms Granger, it happens to the best of us," reassured Dumbledore.

McGonagall handed her a list of what appeared to be the classes she had been taking in her sixth year. He noticed that it was a rather long list. Granger took it, scanned it, and gave it back, agreeing. When she had received her timetable as well, McGonagall stood up.

"Time to escort you two to your quarters," she said, motioning them to stand up as well. Granger bid Dumbledore goodnight, and Draco reluctantly nodded the wizard goodbye, receiving a polite nod in return. He followed McGonagall out of the office and down the stairs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught Granger glaring at him.

She wasn't happy.

And neither was he.

Not only did he owe the Golden Gryffindor trio, he now owed Dumbledore as well, and he felt strangely obligated to please the old fool. Draco had already realised that he could, potentially, use this Head Boy position as a means to meet positive ends. If he managed to behave well enough, he could, theoretically, receive a good recommendation.

He just didn't know whether he was strong enough to keep reminding himself.

While the girl that was walking beside him never was his school nemesis, he had always strongly disliked her, for several different reasons. He knew the feeling was mutual.

No, being trapped in a common room, together, would not be easy.

_But I better make the bloody best of it._

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A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate.


	4. Chapter four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter**** four**_

As they followed Professor McGonagall through the castle, Hermione found that she was drained from all energy. She was exhausted, and on top of that, in a rather bad mood. While she understood that there was certain logic in the decisions the Headmistress and former Headmaster had made, she most certainly didn't like that she had to be involved. It was one thing that Malfoy was Head Boy, she could somewhat understand that decision, but being forced to share a common room with him was simply cruel, especially after what had happened in the past few months.

It was too soon.

She glared at the boy beside her, blaming him for this. Hermione realized that she wasn't really being fair, but at this point, she honestly didn't care about being fair. She felt bad, and he _was_ the reason for that, whether it was his fault or not.

The corridors were deserted and quiet. There were absolutely no traces from a battle, something that slightly comforted Hermione. For months she had only been able to visualise a ruined castle when she'd thought of Hogwarts. It was such a relief that they had managed to completely recover it.

After turning a corner, Professor McGonagall halted at a scenery portrait of the Scottish Highlands with a grazing herd of Highland cattles. They were on the sixth floor, not very far from the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione noticed, feeling relieved. The Professor turned around to face them.

"This is the entrance of your common room and dormitories. I have taken the liberty of choosing the password, and it will change every two weeks on Sunday. You will be notified two days in advance."

She turned back at the portrait.

"Unity."

Hermione heard Malfoy trying to cover up a snort. She couldn't really blame him; it was a ridiculous password given the circumstances. A unity between the two of them was not bound to happen.

The portrait slid to the left, revealing the entrance of their quarters. They followed the Headmistress through the entrance into the common room, and were greeted by a wave of warmth and comfort. The room was circular and reminded Hermione of the Gryffindor common room, except this one was much smaller and lacked a dominant red colour. There were two doorways, one on either side of the room, probably leading to their dorms. On their right was the fireplace with a couch and two comfortable armchairs. On the left was a small study section, with several bookcases. The walls were draped with tapestries in four colours, and above the fireplace hung a huge banner with all four Houses illustrated. There was also a little kitchenette.

Hermione smiled. No, this room wasn't so bad. In fact, it would be rather cosy if she wouldn't have to share it with one of the few people she didn't particularly like.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall after a short moment of silence, allowing the two students a brief moment to take in the room. "These will be your quarters for the coming year. They are exclusively for you, so you are not allowed to bring guests here. The doorway to the right leads to your dormitory, Ms Granger, the one on the left, Mr Malfoy, leads to yours."

The Headmistress paused. "I don't expect you two to miraculously get along within the next few days, but I would encourage you to try your very best," she continued quite gently. "It will make it easier for the both of you."

She turned to Malfoy. "As you might remember, I mentioned to you that you are not allowed to leave this common room after curfew, which will be set at 7 p.m. You are to come here directly after supper, but you may visit the Slytherin dungeons during any free period. After 7 p.m., you will not be able to leave this room; I have seen to that personally. Should you avoid coming here after supper, I will know, and you will not like the consequences."

Malfoy nodded. His facial expression spoke a thousand words, and Hermione could tell that he was most displeased with these rules.

"What about me, Professor?" she asked nervously, remembering that she was to keep an eye on him.

"Technically speaking, Ms Granger, you are free to visit the Gryffindor Tower whenever you would want," spoke Professor McGonagall, carefully choosing her words.

"But you would prefer me to stay here to monitor him," she muttered.

The Headmistress gave her a look of sympathy. Hermione knew that the professor really didn't want to do this to her, but that it was necessary. She really did know, but she still felt punished for something she didn't do.

"I trust you to make decisions that will not interfere with your responsibilities, Ms Granger." She looked at both of them. "If there are no more questions, I advise both of you to get some rest. I expect you two to have the patrol schedule for this month done by the end of this week."

With these words, Professor McGonagall bid them goodnight and left the common room.

Hermione looked at Malfoy, who was standing a couple of feet away from her. He was staring at the fire, and looked miserable. He had been uncharacteristically silent the whole evening. He hadn't even responded when Professor McGonagall had announced their separate common room.

"You knew, didn't you?" she sighed, drawing the conclusion.

He seemed to snap out of a trance and turned his head to look at her. He nodded.

"Great," she muttered. "You were informed and I wasn't."

"Apparently they hold your summer holidays in higher regard than mine," he responded bitterly, looking away from her. "Of course, this school has always been big on favouring Mugglespawn."

"Oh please, Malfoy. It would have softened the blow for me and you know that," Hermione spat back with annoyance, choosing to ignore his comment on her ancestry. Instead of answering, he merely shrugged and then turned around, making his way to his dormitory.

Hermione decided to seek out Ginny, not only to have an excuse to visit the Gryffindor Tower, but also to find out where Crookshanks was. She exited the common room and made her way up to the seventh floor. As she walked through the corridors and neared the portrait of the Fat Lady, she realised that she didn't know the password. She slowed down and walked around the corner, and sighed in relief.

"Hey, Jimmy!"

"Oh, hey Hermione," answered the cheerful fifth-year prefect. She realised that he wasn't alone; he was accompanied by Ritchie Coote, a sixth-year. She quickly greeted him as well. Both boys had been Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and both were very pleasant guys.

She smiled at them. "I just had a meeting with McGonagall, and when I was on my way here, I realised that I don't know the password."

Ritchie grinned at her. "Aren't you lucky that we happen to be here! The password is Bubotuber."

"Thanks, Ritchie," said Hermione gratefully. She turned around and approached the Fat Lady, who, upon hearing the password, swung her picture backward so Hermione could enter the tower through the portrait hole.

The Gryffindor common room was noisy and crowded, even though it was getting late. It seemed that the students wanted to make up for lost time. She was greeted by several enthusiastic exclamations, and it took a while before she found Ginny in front of the fireplace, accompanied by several fellow sixth year students. Crookshanks was lying curled up on her lap. Hermione made her way over to them, and Ginny smiled brightly when she saw her friend approaching.

"There you are! Took you long enough!" she chuckled.

Hermione smiled as she was greeted by the sixth-years. She then looked at Ginny. "Could you join me for a minute?" she asked her friend.

"Sure thing," answered Ginny, lifting Crookshanks, who jumped away from her immediately, offended that she had woken him and was now denying him to lie on the lap he had claimed.

Ginny led the way to her dormitory and once they arrived, they sat down on Ginny's bed. Hermione felt the cheerfulness leave her when she remembered that she couldn't stay here.

"What's wrong?" asked Ginny, taking a little purple fluffy ball from her pillow that Hermione recognized as Arnold, Ginny's Pygmy Puff. Arnold squeaked and climbed onto his owners' shoulder, where he started humming softly.

"I've received duties that I didn't sign up for," she sighed.

Her red-haired friend looked back at her with her brows arched.

"Malfoy was allowed to come back," Hermione continued. "But there were conditions. One of them was that he isn't allowed to stay in the Slytherin dungeons, he has to stay in a separate common room..."

"...with you," Ginny finished her sentence with gritting teeth. "_How_ can they do this to you?" she exclaimed when Hermione nodded. "Don't they remember what you've done last year? What you've been through? That you two aren't exactly friends?"

"Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore both hope that Malfoy has somehow redeemed himself and that being Head Boy will motivate him to behave the best he can. They believe that I'm the best person to guide him, and on top of that, I have to monitor his behaviour and report him whenever he misbehaves."

"Honestly, it sounds as though you have to babysit this insufferable git."

"I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing," answered Hermione softly, frowning at Ginny's choice of insult, which sounded exactly like something Ron would say.

Their privacy was interrupted by two pairs of footsteps on the stairs and the sound of someone giggling. Two girls appeared in the doorway. "Hey Ginny, Hermione," greeted the strawberry-blonde girl who entered the dormitory first. She was followed by a girl with a dark brown pixie cut, who grinned at them.

"Thelma, Pauline, had a good summer, I hope?" answered Ginny with a smile. The two girls nodded and then resumed their giggling and gossiping. Hermione stood up and motioned her head to the stairs, making Ginny follow her back downstairs.

"But you are allowed to come to the Gryffindor Tower whenever you want, aren't you?" asked Ginny once they were in the common room again. Many students were moving past them to go upstairs, wishing one other a good night.

"In theory, yes," said Hermione while dragging Ginny out of the way to the stairs and toward the fireplace, where it wasn't as noisy. "But I think Professor McGonagall prefers if I spend more time in the Head's quarters to keep an eye on Malfoy."

"She can't expect you to stay there all the time, though. You'll go mad."

"Probably," she agreed. "But I'll make sure to stop by every day, if I can."

Ginny smiled. "You should." She took Arnold from her shoulder and started stroking the miniature Puffskein, who immediately started humming louder. Crookshanks approached them slowly, his eyes never leaving the purple ball of fur. Hermione picked him up and hugged him. The ginger cat lost sight of the Pygmy Puff and responded with annoyance, but was quickly distracted when Hermione scratched him behind his ears. He closed his eyes, purring softly.

"I better head back," Hermione sighed. "It's late, and I want to be well-rested for my first class tomorrow. It's been a long time."

"All right, good night, Hermione, see you tomorrow at breakfast," said Ginny, smiling encouragingly. She strode off and disappeared around the corner of the spiral staircase.

Hermione made her way back to the portrait hole, waving goodbyes to the small group of students that were still sitting around the fireplace.

When the portrait of the Fat Lady closed behind her, Hermione drew her wand.

"_Lumos."_

She absent-mindedly held her wand in front of her to illuminate the empty corridors, earning quite a few disapproving glares from people that were portrayed on the paintings that decorated the stone walls. She was out after curfew, an old wizard reminded her grumpily. Crookshanks hissed aggressively at that particular portrait, earning a scold from Hermione.

After a little walk, she recognized the corridor on her left and found the scenery portrait that hid the way to her new quarters. She muttered the password and entered the common room, finding it empty, which was a relief.

Hermione immediately climbed the stairs on her right and was happy to discover that her things had already been unpacked. She put Crookshanks on her bed and started packing her school bag according to the timetable Professor McGonagall had given her earlier. The day would start with a double Charms class, followed by a double Defence Against the Dark Arts. After lunch she would have a free period, and then she would have Arithmancy. Not a bad first day back at all, except for the fact that it was Wednesday, which meant that she would also have Astronomy at midnight.

So much for a good night's sleep. At least she would have plenty of time for homework beforehand.

She changed into her pyjamas and crawled into bed and drew the curtains. Crookshanks lay down next to her, and Hermione felt the warmth of the cat through her blankets, which made her feel rather safe. Now that she was lying in bed, she noticed how exhausted she had been all days, and her entire body felt sore.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

X X X

_**Wednesday, 2 September 1998**_

When Draco woke up, it was 7:30 a.m. and the sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains of his four-poster bed. He rolled over on his back and stretched. His back made a satisfying cracking noise and Draco swung his legs out of bed, opening his curtains as he moved from under the blankets. He sat on the edge of his bed for a little while before getting dressed. It was time for breakfast.

He ran down the stairs and entered the common room. A large bandy-legged and ginger-coloured cat entered the common room from the other set of stairs and looked at Draco with a bored expression on his squashed face. Briefly wondering whether this ugly creature was a Weasley in disguise, he dismissed this thought with a snort and left the room through the portrait hole.

Still not entirely awake, Draco half-stumbled on the bottom of the stairs. Groaning, he crossed the Entrance Hall and entered Great Hall, walking towards the near-empty Slytherin table.

"Where have _you _been?" snapped Pansy, as soon as he sat down across her. "I've waited for you for _hours_ and Zabini said you never came to your dorm!"

"Good morning to you too, Pansy," sighed Draco, as he reached for the coffeepot. A large number of owls streamed into the Great Hall, and Daphne Greengrass, a blonde girl who was sitting next to Pansy, caught today's edition of the Daily Prophet and searched her pockets for coins to pay the owl.

"I guess I forgot to mention yesterday that I'm not allowed to stay in the Slytherin dungeons anymore. McGonagall has put me under the surveillance of the Head Girl, and I have to share a common room with her so she can keep an eye on me," Draco grumbled, pouring himself a cup.

Pansy's eyes widened in shock and Daphne Greengrass, who was just about to put a tiny bronze Knut in the small leather pouch tied to the owl's leg, looked up at him and arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you serious? Can she even do that?"

"You have to share a common room with that _Mudblood_?" shrieked Pansy before he could even reply. The few people that were sitting at the Slytherin table turned their heads to stare. Draco was sitting with his back to the majority of the Great Hall, but he could almost feel the other House students' eyes on him. He just hoped that the staff hadn't noticed.

"Be quiet," he hissed. "Do you want to be expelled? You know they won't tolerate this from us anymore."

"What do I care?" hissed Pansy back, but she kept her voice down. She ran a hand through her shoulder-length dark-brown hair and tied it up into a ponytail, shooting glances at the staff table.

Slughorn was making his way over to the Slytherin table, but as they watched him they saw with relief that he had merely started to hand students their timetable.

Greengrass looked at him and Pansy with mild interest before greeting the girl who sat down next to Draco. The bespectacled girl muttered a good-morning to him and Pansy and started chatting with her dorm mate.

He never paid much attention to Sally-Anne Perks. She was a quiet and shy girl that liked to hide behind books, and Draco suspected that her ambition was the only reason why she was Sorted in Slytherin. Greengrass and Perks were friends, but Pansy didn't like her much, she thought Perks was too serious and boring, and she loved to taunt the girl, though she usually left her alone because Greengrass had asked her to.

But not today.

"Sally, could you be a doll and run back down to the dorm for me, I forgot my Charms books," said Pansy innocently, stirring her tea.

Perks flushed. She didn't get bossed around often, but whenever Pansy was in a foul mood, she was the one to suffer. And Perks knew better than to refuse. The brunette stood up and hurried back to the Entrance Hall.

Greengrass put down the Daily Prophet and glared at Pansy. "Really, we're doing this again? Why don't you just leave her alone!" she snapped.

"Oh come on, I asked nicely, didn't I?"

"You're a wicked wench, Pansy."

Pansy looked at the blonde girl in mock horror, receiving a glare in return. "Fine, _fine_, I'll leave her alone," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Draco finished his scrambled eggs, having enjoyed the little show with much amusement. He loved Pansy's fiery attitude. People often said that she was his female counterpart, and there was certainly some truth in that. It was the main reason why they could get along so well.

Zabini sat down on the other side of Draco, not acknowledging them. He immediately reached for the coffeepot. Pansy was smirking at him, sipping her tea as she watched him grumpily pour himself a cup. Zabini clearly wasn't a morning person.

"Ms Parkinson, Ms Greengrass, good morning, and your timetables, here you go," interrupted Slughorn jovially, as soon as he had reached them. Greengrass took her timetable and asked for a timetable for Perks. "Ms Perks, you say? All right, here you go, thanks for your consideration. Mr Zabini, m'boy, how are you, had a pleasant summer, yes? Ah, good, good. Here you go. Mr Malfoy, you have already received your timetable, have you not? Yes, thought so, very good, have a good first day back, you lot."

"I thought you went back home," said Zabini when Slughorn was out of earshot, raising his eyebrow at Draco.

"No, McGonagall just decided to give me private quarters now that I'm Head Boy."

Zabini stared at him in unflattering disbelief.

"Don't forget to mention that part where you have to share them with Mudblood Granger," added Pansy sweetly.

Giving him a superior smirk, Zabini reached for the scrambled eggs and started to fill his plate. "Isn't this the part where you tell us to _just wait until your father hears about this?_"

Pansy and Zabini started to roar with laughter and even Greengrass chucked. Draco gave them a less-than-half-hearted laugh and finished his cup of coffee. It stung that they laughed at him like that, even though he knew full well that he would have done the same thing if it were someone else.

Two books were smacked down on the table, and Draco watched how Perks sat down next to him again, pushing the books in Pansy's direction and quickly grabbing a few pieces of toast and pouring herself some orange juice. It was almost 8:30, and breakfast was almost over. Most students didn't pack their school bags the evening before, so they had to use the coming 30 minutes to go back to their dorm, pack their books and get to the right classroom. They would have Charms, Draco had gathered.

"I'm off to get my things, see you guys in class," he announced grumpily, and he walked away from them. He climbed the Marble Staircase and made his way through the corridors.

The common room was empty, apart from the Weasley-in-disguise cat that laid curled up in one of the armchairs as a furry orange pillow. Draco climbed the stairs to his dorm and quickly packed some books while referencing the timetable on his desk. Noticing the class that was scheduled for midnight, he signed. It was going to be a long first day back, but luckily he had a free period after lunch.

He swung the bag over his shoulder and made his way back downstairs, to the third floor. He checked his wristwatch. It was ten to nine. Draco turned a corner and found himself in the Charms Corridor. Pansy and Zabini weren't there yet, but Draco noticed that Nott was, and he walked up to his former dorm mate.

Nott also informed why he never came down to the dungeons, and he raised his eyebrows when Draco told him the story.

"Well, she certainly meant it when she said she would put you under surveillance."

Draco grimaced and glanced at the girl with the bushy hair that was standing near the closed door of classroom 2E. She was talking to two Ravenclaw girls, one of the Patils and Lisa Turpin, a girl with mousy brown hair and an uneven row of upper teeth. The classroom door opened, and the students started moving toward the door, Draco and Nott among them.

Taking their seats in the back of the classroom, Pansy, Greengrass and Zabini entered the room as well, the girls seating themselves in the row in front of him and Nott, next to Tracey Davis, while Zabini joined them in the back.

When all the students had taken their seats, Flitwick took the register. Once he had reached the last name, he announced that they would be working on Concealment charms.

"Now, who can tell me the difference between Concealing charms and Conceal_ment_ charms? Yes, Ms Granger?"

To no one's surprise, Granger's hand had shot up the second Flitwick had finished his sentence, and Pansy sighed out dramatic annoyance.

"Concealing charms are spells used to hide secret messages in parchment by magical means; as an alternative to invisible ink. Conceal_ment_ charms are spells used to conceal _things_ from view and to obfuscate inherent magical properties of objects."

"Well done, Ms Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

He groaned something unfriendly, which was not missed by Zabini. "Don't blame her, you must realise how much she has missed this last year," he said, exaggerating a concerned tone that was thick with sarcasm.

"Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy, boys, please pay attention. Now, today we will start with concealing objects, and once you have all mastered that, we will start concealing _spells _in objects. All clear? If you could all take a goblet from this box, Mr Corner, would you please pass it on? Yes, thank you. Now, the incantation of this spell is _Abscondo_, with the emphasis on _scon_. The wand movement is simple – like this – but the timing of the _flick_ is of utmost importance…"

Draco zoned out, not particularly interested in the Concealment charm. Zabini seemed to be mindlessly doodling on a piece of parchment, but Nott was taking notes. He would ask him if he could have a look later.

The box had reached them, and they all took out a dusty goblet. The students in the front of the class had already started practicing. Nott took out his wand as well, and he started practicing the wand movement while carefully studying his notes.

"Mind sharing those?" asked Draco grudgingly, motioning his head at the parchment. Nott sighed and put the notes between them.

"No, I have a better idea," muttered Zabini to Draco, a mischievous smirk on his face. He scribbled something on his parchment and pushed it towards Draco, who curiously looked down at it. The words spelled _'Caesaries Incrementa', _and Draco couldn't help but smirk as well.

"Come on, do it then!"

Draco shook his head and pointed at the badge on his robes.

"Don't be a wimp," hissed Zabini. "Who cares, you didn't want to come back anyway."

"Neither did you, but here you are, making sure you're not cut off from the family fortune!" hissed Draco back. "Do it yourself, then!"

The two boys glared at each other, each challenging the other to do it. With an exaggerated sigh, Zabini whipped out his wand and once Flitwick turned his back on the class to write down instructions on the blackboard, he pointed it at the front of the class and muttered the incantation.

A few girls started screaming and Flitwick turned around with such haste that he toppled off the stack of books he was standing on. Granger and Patil ran for the door and disappeared out of the room.

Once Flitwick had climbed back up, he urged the class to be silent as he scanned the room. The Slytherins were roaring with laughter, Zabini the loudest from all.

"Mr Zabini! Mr Malfoy!" he squeaked angrily, sounding quite upset. "Hexing someone from behind is something I will _not _tolerate! You are both to leave this classroom right this instant and I will make sure you will both serve detention later this week. Off you go, and be quick about it!"

They gathered up their things and hurried to the door. Pansy shot him a sympathetic look; she knew that he would be in trouble.

Draco had realised that too. He knew that if he didn't behave, McGonagall wouldn't show him any mercy and expel him immediately. He was also Head Boy now, and it was expected of him to be responsible. Dumbledore was counting on him. His _mother_ was counting on him._  
_

And as much as he wished that it had, seeing Granger run out of the classroom with embarrassment hadn't been worth the trouble he was going to face.

* * *

A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate.


	5. Chapter five

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter five**_

Hermione walked into the Great Hall at 8:00 a.m. and searched the Gryffindor Table for familiar faces. Ginny wasn't there yet, so she decided to sit across her former dorm mates, Fay Dunbar and Sophie Roper. They were nice girls and she occasionally hung out with them, but most of the time she didn't feel the need to be more than just dorm mates. Greeting them, she sat down, pulling the orange juice towards her.

"Hermione! I didn't even know you had returned, your bed remained empty all night," said Fay in surprise after swallowing a spoonful of cornflakes.

"I was in the Gryffindor common room yesterday evening, I completely forgot to come up to the dorm and tell you that Professor McGonagall has arranged for a separate common room for me and the Head Boy."

"Ah, okay," nodded Fay. "So who's Head Boy? Is it a Ravenclaw? I bet it's that Corner guy."

Hermione grimaced. "No, it's Draco Malfoy."

Fay and Sophie both stared at her, their eyes wide.

"What has _he_ done to deserve being Head Boy?" asked Sophie, sounding shocked.

"It's more complicated than just a matter of what he deserves," sighed Hermione, adding some sugar to her porridge. "I'll just have to hope that he has somehow redeemed himself."

Fay snorted. "Small chance."

"Good morning," announced Ginny as she sat down next to Hermione together with Jennifer Dawn, a tall girl who wore her long, dark blonde hair tied back in a braid.

"Ginny! I heard you're Captain, when will the Quidditch tryouts be? This is my last chance to make it to the team and I _really_ want to join!" exclaimed Fay.

"I haven't really given it much thought yet," answered Ginny, frowning at the older brunette. "I will let you know once the date is set, though."

"All right then, thanks. See you in Charms, Hermione."

The two seventh-years rose and headed for the Entrance Hall. Ginny, who was still frowning, gazed after them as they disappeared out of view. "Does she really think she has a chance? Two years ago she didn't even make it past the third round!"

Jennifer chuckled. "A girl can dream, Ginny."

The owls that delivered the mail arrived, and to her surprise, two large grey owls swooped down on the table in front of Hermione and Ginny, carrying a very large package with two envelopes attached; one addressed to Hermione, and the other addressed to Ginny. Glancing at each other, both took the envelope that belonged to them.

Hermione opened the envelope and folded the parchment open, immediately recognizing the handwriting as Harry's.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I just learned that you received the position of Head Girl – congratulations. It belonged to you the second you set foot in Hogwarts; you truly deserve it._

_First of all, I really miss you, and I'm sorry that we haven't seen each other over the summer. I'm doing better now, though, and I plan on visiting Hogwarts sometime soon to take care of some business. Neville and I have started reforming the Auror's department. It's going slowly, but we'll get there. _

_Right now I'm headed to the Burrow. I feel a bit guilty for leaving Ron hanging, but I really needed time to clear my head first, I wouldn't have been much of a support earlier. I hope he's doing better, have you seen him at all since Fred's funeral? _

_I hope you're okay, Hermione, and I hope Hogwarts will be great even without us. Look at it from the positive side – at least you won't have to deal with us not doing our homework on time._

_Enclosed you will find some things I want you to borrow this year. I caught some rumours about certain Slytherin's returning, so they may come in handy. _

_Take care, Hermione, and I'll be seeing you soon._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Hermione's eyes scanned the large package that was still on the table, and discovered a smaller package attached to it. She took it and tore off the wrapping, discovering something made of a fluid-like silky, silvery material inside. Remembering that Harry's mention was plural, she unfolded the cloak and discovered a folded piece of parchment. Hermione stared at it for a little while, smiling, and then refolded the clock and rewrapped the package.

She curiously looked at Ginny, who was still staring at the letter in her slightly trembling hands, and noticed that her friend had teary eyes.

"Are you okay, Ginny?"

"He's given me his Firebolt... I – I thought he'd lost it when you... I don't understand how..."

Hermione remembered that Harry had indeed told her that he had lost his Firebolt the night they came to pick him up in Little Whinging. "Maybe one of the Auror's that searched for Moody's body found it and took it with him. Maybe he had only just gotten it back? There was a war going, after all." she suggested.

The red-haired witch refolded the letter and touched the broom, a look of wonder and appreciation in her eyes. Then she noticed the package in Hermione's hands.

"What did he send you?" she asked.

"The invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map," answered Hermione softly, staring at the package in her hands. "That Map is going to be very useful during my Head Girl duties," she smiled, her eyes twinkling as she looked up at Ginny.

"Good morning girls, here are your timetables," interrupted a female voice. Hermione and Ginny looked up and saw the new Transfiguration teacher standing in front of them. Professor Copperfield smiled and handed Ginny and Jennifer their timetables.

"Are you the new Head of Gryffindor House, Professor?" questioned Hermione.

"Indeed I am," nodded the witch, and she turned to a couple of third-years that were seated next to Hermione.

Ginny took the broomstick and stood up from the wooden bench. "I'm going to run upstairs get my books; do you want me to take your package too? Then you'll have a reason to visit the Gryffindor common room later."

Hermione looked at her wristwatch. It was 8:45 a.m. and if she were to go to her own quarters she would have to rush to be on time. She looked up at Ginny and smiled, holding up the package to her friend.

"Yes, thank you. I'll see you at lunch!"

As Ginny disappeared out of view, Hermione quickly finished her orange juice and waved at Jennifer. She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed to entrance.

"Hermione! Wait up!"

Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin made their way over from the Ravenclaw table, and the three of them walked up to the third floor together, speculating what their first class would be covering.

"Sue spilled coffee all over my notes this morning," groaned Lisa. "I was able to dry them off quickly, but the part on Disillusionment charms was completely soaked, it's unreadable."

"You can borrow my notes and copy them, I think I have them with me," offered Hermione, feeling generous, and Lisa smiled gratefully. Hermione never let Harry and Ron borrow her notes because they were too lazy to pay attention themselves, but she knew that Lisa was a dedicated student, and she would gladly help her complete her notes.

They reached the classroom and waited patiently by the door. At 9:00 a.m. a bell chime echoed through the corridors, and the door of the classroom opened.

Hermione followed the Ravenclaw girls and sat down on the front row, next to Padma. The Slytherins made their way to the back and Michael Corner was the last to run into the room before the door closed, taking the seat next to Hermione.

She opened her bag, took out her books and a quill and searched through her notes until she found the page she was looking for, and passed it to Lisa, who smiled and whispered a 'thank you'.

They would be practicing Concealment charms today, and Hermione felt good, having already scored some points for Gryffindor in the first few minutes. She had taken out her wand and was now practicing the timing of the flick, which had to be in perfect sync with the pronunciation of the incantation.

Next to her, Michael was struggling to make a smooth pattern with his wand, and Hermione turned her attention to him, trying to help him improve the movement.

Suddenly she was hit by something from behind and she gasped for air as the skin on her face started to sting. Padma and Lisa both screamed and Padma pulled her up from her chair and pushed Michael out of the way, pulling Hermione to the door. Once they were standing in the corridor, Padma couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Sorry, Hermione, but you look ridiculous."

"I'm sure but it _stings_ _so_ _badly_," answered Hermione with tears in her eyes. She caught her reflection in a suit of armour.

A girl with a long bushy brown beard stared back at her.

If the beard hadn't irritated her skin so much, Hermione would have laughed at her reflection. Padma was right; she looked ridiculous. But her feminine skin wasn't accustomed to these thick bristly hairs, and the little skin that wasn't covered in beard was red and itchy.

Hermione removed her robe and hid her face behind it while Padma pulled her through the corridors and they made their way down to the hospital wing.

"We're here, Hermione, you can let your robe down now," said the Ravenclaw girl. Hermione peeked over her robe and saw Madam Pomfrey marching up to them.

"Ms Patil, what's the matter?"

"It's not me, Madam; it's Hermione we've come for," answered Padma, pulling on the robe that Hermione was still keeping in front of her face.

Madam Pomfrey halted in front of her, and Hermione finally brought down the robe, revealing her face to the matron. The old woman shook her head in disapproval and guided Hermione to a bed close to her office. She started examining the beard and walked into the office, coming back with a bright blue potion and her wand.

"This won't take long, Ms Granger, however, it may burn a little," she announced, moving her wand in a complicated pattern.

The skin on her face started to burn in protest as the thick hairs seemed to be sucked back into her skin. It didn't burn a _little_; it burned a lot. Hermione whimpered softly, squeezing Padma's hand.

"There," said the nurse. "Now, you are to apply some of this potion to your skin now and continue to do so once every hour until you go to bed. I expect that your skin will be fine in the morning, however, if it continues to itch, sting or burn, please come see me again." After having received a confirming nod from Hermione, she hurried to a bed on the other side of the hospital wing to take care of a second-year student with large green pulsing boils all over his hands and arms.

"Shame she removed it, Granger, it really improved your looks, but you probably don't value my opinion very much."

Hermione and Padma turned around at the same time to glare at the sneering boy behind them.

"You've got some nerve showing your face so soon," spat Padma.

"I'd like to have a word with her, Patil, so if you don't mind..."

The Ravenclaw looked at Hermione with raised eyebrows, who nodded at her, and then walked to the entrance of the hospital wing, waiting for Hermione to be ready.

"Have you come to gloat, Malfoy?" she said angrily, looking up at the blond boy as she applied some of the potion to her face, which smelled like eucalyptus and immediately calmed her skin.

"Perhaps a little," he answered with a faint smirk. "But I wanted to tell you that it wasn't me."

"Right. So it wasn't your guilty conscience that brought you here?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't pretend you're omniscient, you didn't even see anything."

"No, I didn't see," spat Hermione. "But don't pretend that you're _above_ hexing a classmate, it wouldn't be the first time that you hexed me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Fourth year, when you hexed my front teeth?"

"That wasn't even meant for you, I was aiming for Potter," snapped Malfoy.

Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh. "When have you _ever_ commented on Harry's teeth? You haven't, whereas you and Parkinson never seemed to shut up about _my_ front teeth. So why in the world would you hex Harry's unremarkable front teeth when with a little adjusted aim you could hit _me_ instead?"

Malfoy's face turned a little pink and Hermione snorted. "And I don't care whether it was you or Zabini. _You_ are the Head Boy, and if you had been responsible – like you're _supposed_ to be – you wouldn't have allowed him to hex someone from behind, during a _class_, no less. I will put it in my weekly report and if you want to avoid that in the future, try to work on your inability to be responsible."

With one last glare at him she grabbed the potion from the bed and headed to the entrance where Padma was still waiting for her.

X

Hermione and Padma had not gone back to the Charms class; instead they had gone to the library to read up on some information on Concealment charms. Around quarter to eleven they packed their things and headed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They were the first to arrive, and the classroom door was open, so they walked inside.

"Good morning, girls," said Professor Merrythought, who sat behind her desk. She looked up at them with a smile and put down her quill. "You're quite early, please take a seat, I have to take care of some last things."

The girls sat down in the front row once again and enthusiastically started taking out their things. The bell rang and soon their classmates entered the classroom one by one, taking their seats, all eager to see what the new Professor had planned for them. Lisa came up to them with a couple of things they had forgotten in their rush before sitting down next to Morag MacDougal and Stephen Cornfoot, on the third row.

"Good morning class, I shall introduce myself once more: my name is Grimilda Merrythought. You may be familiar with my surname through my grandmother, and I hope to be teaching here for as long as she has."

Professor Merrythought stood up and waved her wand at the blackboard, which now revealed what they would be studying this term.

"I would like to go deeper into the theory before we start using magic ourselves. I am well aware that this isn't as exciting as you may have hoped, but considering that we are recovering from a war, how much more defensive magic is there really left for you to learn?"

There was some brief agitation amongst the students after the mention of the war, but once Professor Merrythought started discussing today's topic, everyone remained quiet.

Coming term they would discuss the Dark Arts and its effect on ones soul, and Hermione shuddered as she thought of the hunt for Horcruxes. After two hours of taking notes and listening to the fascinating stories of the new Professor, they were given the assignment to write an essay on today's subject. The bell rang and the students quickly moved towards the Great Hall for lunch.

Hermione lingered in the classroom and walked up to the Professor's desk.

"Professor, I was wondering, would I be allowed to write my essay on Horcruxes?"

Professor Merrythought gave her a surprised and questioning look. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you? Yes, I thought I'd recognized you. Now tell me, why would you want to write about that particular subject?"

"I've become quite the expert when it comes to Horcruxes, I'm afraid," muttered Hermione. "When it comes to soul-destroying magic, it was the first thing that came to mind. I don't think there's more destructive magic."

The Professor leaned back in her chair and scratched her chin, narrowing her eyes as she stared across the classroom, deep in thought. When she refocused her gaze on Hermione again, she smiled. "It might be therapeutic for you to write about this, Ms Granger. You have, after all, been through a lot, and writing about it might distance you from it. You have my permission, but I want you to stay close to your own experiences. I will absolutely not accept anything that might give anyone information about how to create one, so be careful as to which sources you'll consult."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

X

A dramatically sighing Ginny seated herself across Hermione, who had just taken a bite of her roast beef sandwich.

"What's wong?" she asked after swallowing her food.

"Nothing, I just had a particularly boring morning, that's all," answered Ginny as she inspected a chicken curry sandwich, but ultimately picked a chicken sate sandwich instead. "How was yours?"

Hermione grimaced. "Malfoy or Zabini hexed me from behind during Charms and I had to go to the hospital wing to have Madam Pomfrey remove a rather impressive beard." She gently touched the stinging skin on her jaw.

"That's really low," said Ginny, frowning angrily. "It wouldn't have been fun to do it in your face, of course, they know you're able to handle both of them with your wand still in your inside pocket. Is your face okay, though? Remember when it happened to Alicia? The skin around her eyebrows burned for a week."

"That's a nice prospect," muttered Hermione, remembering the incident that had taken place in her fifth year, prior to the first Quidditch match of the year.

Miles Bletchley had hit Alicia Spinnet with a similar hex from behind in front of fourteen witnesses, but Snape had dismissed their reports and stated that Alicia had just used a poor Hair-Thickening charm on herself.

They finished eating their lunch in silence and decided to spend the rest of their break outside now that the weather still allowed it. They sat down on the grass and enjoyed the faint warmth that the sun provided, as Hermione applied some more potion to her face. Ginny talked about her first classes and complained how she was forced to sit next to Owen Anthony during History of Magic.

Owen was the sixth year prefect for Gryffindor alongside Jada Angela. Ginny had once described him as a mix between Percy and Cormac McLaggen: way too serious and very cocky. He had expressed an interest in Ginny many times, and didn't seem to take no for an answer.

Their conversation was interrupted when three fifth year Slytherin boys loudly entered the Courtyard. They were taunting two second year Hufflepuff girls who both seemed quite shy.

"Hey blondie, tell me something: what do you call a Hufflepuff with one brain cell?" yelled the tallest Slytherin boy. The girls remained quiet, both looking at the ground.

Ginny glared at the three boys. "Leave them alone, you bothersome idiot."

"Ooh, Weasley, look at you, being all brave! Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think? That's why you're so appropriately a Gryffindork!" The guys started roaring with laughter.

"Is that a bogey in your nose, McGruder? Want me to get it out for you?" threatened the red-haired witch, slowly taking her wand out of her robes.

Ginny had quite the reputation when it came to the Bat-Bogey Hex. She could cast one so powerful that Bat-Bogeys would still fly out of your nose hours after she had hexed you, and it was said to be quite painful when they crawled out of your nostrils.

The boys' smug expressions disappeared and they quietly made their way back inside, making rude hand gestures in Ginny's direction.

"They're so tough when they're in packs, get one alone and they're shaking with fear," she spat. "Life at Hogwarts would be so much more comfortable if they just got rid of that entire House."

Hermione chucked. "They're not all that bad."

"True, it's just the alpha males. Thomas McGruder is the fifth-year Draco Malfoy. And Kevin Bletchley was _exactly_ like his brother. I'm glad he didn't come back this year, the remaining sixth year Slytherin's are so much more acceptable now." Ginny shook her head. "That was really childish... I didn't know people still made Hufflepuff jokes."

"What _do_ you call a Hufflepuff with one brain cell, though?" Hermione wondered out loud.

Ginny snorted. "Gifted."

The bell rang and Ginny was headed to Ancient Studies, which was taught on the sixth floor. Hermione made her way to the library to use her free period to get started on her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. She seated herself in a quiet corner and started to work out the outlines of her essay. Just as she finished listing her subjects, a bag was dropped on the chair across her, startling her. She looked up and found herself staring in the face of yet another unpleasant Slytherin.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I'm busy."

"I can see that," the sullen-looking boy said in a sarcastic tone as he settled down on one of the chairs.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione, eyeing him suspiciously.

Malfoy stared at her, his facial expression quite neutral, though he was unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

"Look, I need this position, okay?" He said in a business-like tone. "I didn't do anything to you, nor was it my idea. All I did wrong was not stopping Zabini, and I don't think I should be punished for that."

"If you think I'm going to keep this out of my report—"

"What's the use of reporting it?" hissed Malfoy as leaned across the table. "McGonagall already knows, Flitwick has already reported it and I have to serve detention with Zabini later this week."

Hermione picked up her quill again. "Good," she said coolly, looking down at her essay again, hoping he would leave soon so she could continue. He didn't, and it remained silent for a little while.

"You're not going to leave it out, are you." It wasn't a question, it was a conclusion.

"No, Malfoy, I'm not. Why would I?" Hermione looked up again, frowning in annoyance. "As the Head Boy you should be an example for the student body, and when you allow people to hex each other, we're going to have to deal with a whole lot of chaos soon, and quite frankly, I've had enough chaos for the rest of my life."

"I see." Malfoy's voice sounded bitter and angry, and he crossed his arms. "So there is nothing that would convince you otherwise?"

"No. But you could avoid it in the future by being more responsible. And stop looking at me like I'm ruining your life; one negative report could hardly ruin your entire school year."

"Are you trying to get back at me?"

She stared at him in confusion; her thoughts immediately went back to the Skirmish at Malfoy Manor. He couldn't possibly be talking about that.

"For what?"

"For the past seven years."

He was talking about his behaviour at school, Hermione realised, feeling relieved. "No, Malfoy, I am not _'getting back'_ at you. Unless you find it offensive if I would start calling you _Pureblood_, then I might consider it," she replied with a snort.

"You don't seem very upset about all that," came his suspicious reply, and he sounded slightly confused. She looked up at him, but his face gave away nothing.

"Well, it was never about me, was it? It was always about Harry. The fact that Ron's easy to anger was probably just the icing on the cake. To be honest, Malfoy, I really couldn't care less about how often you throw the word Mudblood at me, it won't hurt me. I know my worth."

Hermione briefly looked down at her wristwatch and started to gather her things. She decided that she would put away some books at her dorm since she only had one more class left before supper, and her shoulder was sore from her heavy bag. She stood up and shot a last glance at Malfoy, who was staring at her with a strange expression in his eyes that she couldn't quite read.

"Tomorrow I would like to get started on the patrol schedule," she said. "I don't know if you're still on the Quidditch Team, but if you could ask the Captains when they intend to start with their trials and trainings, so we can take that into account when we schedule people that are on the teams, that would be nice."

Without waiting for his answer, Hermione turned around and left the library.

* * *

A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate.


	6. Chapter six

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter six**_

"Hey, how did it go?"

Draco sank down on the couch near the fireplace and brushed some hair out of his face. Pansy was sitting next to him with a large, dusty old book on her lap, apparently looking for a subject for her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay.

"As anticipated. She stubbornly refused and kept going on about my _irresponsibility_," he spat.

Pansy rolled her eyes and turned a page, wrinkling her nose as a wave of dust fluttered up from the old pages. She moved the book from her lap onto the table and dug her bag for a roll of parchment and a quill. Draco eyed the page she had marked and saw some information about ghosts. "What's your subject?"

"The Use... of Dark Magic... and its Affects... on the Ability... to leave an Imprint... of the Soul," answered Pansy with intervals as she wrote the line neatly on top of her roll. She finished with a forceful dot and looked up at him. "Have you already decided on a subject?" Draco shook his head, and Pansy pushed the book in his direction. "You can use this for inspiration if you want, but don't leave it lying around, I don't know if I'm allowed to have it."

Concluding that the book must be property of Pansy's father, Draco nodded. Mr Parkinson was fond of the Dark Arts. He hadn't been a committed follower of the Dark Lord, but he did agree with most of his views. Draco had been at the Parkinson Manor a few times, and one of the larger rooms was converted into a library, with one of the largest collections of books on the Dark Arts that Draco had ever seen.

Draco looked around the Slytherin common room, glad to be spending some time down here. It was quite empty, only a couple of sixth- and seventh-years had a free period. Sally-Anne Perks was sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by rolls of parchment and a pile of books. One of the other tables was occupied by Viola Richmond, a sixth-year prefect, and one of her friends, Mathilda Greenford. Seated on the couch across him and Pansy were Michael Robinson and Timothy Morcott, playing a game of Exploding Snap. Robinson's eyebrows were singed, indicating that he had already lost several games.

"So after supper you have to go straight up to that Head Tower of yours and you're not allowed to have visitors?" inquired Pansy after having written a short paragraph.

"No. And I'm not allowed to leave until the next morning, either, except when I still have class in the evening." replied Draco bitterly. Pansy leaned against his arm with her head on his shoulder.

"I don't understand why you're so severely punished and I'm free to go wherever I want," she said softly.

Draco sighed. "You don't have the Mark branded on your arm, and you didn't attempt to kill the Headmaster, injuring two students in the process. And you didn't have a bunch of people locked up in your basement for a couple of months."

"Not in this past century, no," snorted Pansy, and Draco smirked at her.

They noticed Sally-Anne getting up and gathering her things, and Pansy checked her watch. In twenty minutes their last class before dinner would start, which was Divination for Pansy and Arithmancy for Draco. They walked up to the ground floor and parted ways, as Pansy was headed to the North Tower and Draco had to go up to the seventh floor.

"Malfoy, wait up," a voice called out at him.

He looked around and saw Theodore Nott leave a classroom, and halted until the boy had caught up on him. As they walked they briefly discussed their Defence Against the Dark Arts class from earlier. Draco was glad that Nott didn't ask him questions about the Charms incident, he didn't want to think about the trouble he was in. They entered the classroom and saw that they were the last students to arrive.

Arithmancy was a fascinating subject, but not many people understood the appeal, which resulted in small classes. Apart from himself and Nott, the class consisted of only two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff and four Ravenclaws.

Professor Septima Vector, a witch with long, black hair and a fondness for velvet robes and matching pointed hats, as well as the colour red, took the register and scanned the classroom with a stern look. She was known among students as a really strict teacher, so much so that some students had been unsure whether to take her classes, even if they were very interested in Arithmancy.

After having checked her list, Professor Vector revealed her instructions on the blackboard and immediately started her class.

"Good afternoon and welcome back. Coming term we will study both Isopsephy and Gematria. We have a very tight schedule and a lot to cover, so expect large amounts of homework. Now, Mr Entwhistle, could you tell us what Isopsephy is?"

Kevin Entwhistle, a Ravenclaw Mudblood, sat up a little straighter. "Isopsephy is the practice of adding up the number values of the letters in a word to form a single number. It's one of the earliest known Arithmancy practices and finds its origin in Ancient Greece."

"Well illustrated, Mr Entwhistle, ten points to Ravenclaw. Now, Mr Malfoy, please tell us what Gematria is and how it differs from Isopsephy."

Draco frowned and tried to recall what he had read the night before. "Gematria is a traditional Jewish system of assigning numerical value to a word or phrase. It differs from Isopsephy in its origin, which is Hebrew instead of Greek, and in the search for different outcomes. Isopsephy searches solely for the value, Gematria searches for the meaning _behind_ the value," he drawled.

Professor Vector nodded appreciatively. "Yes, very good Mr Malfoy, take ten points for Slytherin. Now, we will start with Isopsephy and the letter values of the archaic Greek alphabet, so if you could all take a couple of these charts, Ms Granger, would you please be so kind to pass them around, thank you."

After an hour of assignments in which they had to represent different numbers through the Greek symbols, they were assigned to write an essay in which they researched and explained both known variations of the Number of the Beast (666 and 616) through the Isopsephic methods. The bell rang, and the students enthusiastically left the classroom to drop off their bags in their dorms and enjoy the free time they had before supper.

"Are you coming down to the dungeons?" asked Nott as he collected his notes and headed for the door. Draco nodded and followed him.

When they arrived in the Slytherin common room, Zabini immediately walked up to Draco, a sour expression on his face. "Detention on Friday, directly after supper. We need to polish ever single suit of armour in the Armoury. We're not allowed to bring our wands," he spat.

Draco groaned in disgust and glared at his classmate. "Next time you claim to have a _better_ idea, I'll provide you with a month's worth of detention myself, and I'll make sure it's something nasty."

Zabini shrugged. "At least I won't be so bloody bored," he drawled, clearly not impressed with Draco's threat. He turned around and disappeared toward the dormitories.

In the meantime, Nott had already settled down in one of the armchairs near the fire. He had taken out his Arithmancy books and was presumably already working on his essay. Draco joined him and decided to start on his essay as well.

X

Their free hour had gone by quickly, and before Draco knew it was time for dinner, and soon after, isolation from everything but Granger. He reluctantly made his way up to the Great Hall with his classmates and seated himself between Pansy and Tracey Davis. He enjoyed their bashing of other houses in silence, poking his food around with his fork.

Pansy gave him a sympathetic look. "Eat something, or you'll starve tonight. You do realise you won't be able to sneak down to the kitchens, right?"

With a sigh, Draco threw down his fork. "It's just ridiculous. I'm allowed to spend time in the dungeons during the day, but they lock me up with a sodding Gryffindor during the evening. But that's not even the worst part; I could just avoid her by staying in my dorm. What am I supposed to _do_ all evening?"

Nott smirked at him from across the table. "Homework."

"In which case you should probably stay in the common room and start a study group with Granger, high grades ensured," added Tracey, sniggering, earning a glare from Draco.

"Maybe if you keep a low profile and behave the way they expect you to, they'll let you come back down to the dungeons after a while," suggested Pansy. "Think about it, they're testing you, right? If you behave accordingly and be a responsible Head Boy, you passed the test."

The Slytherins remained quiet for a while, thinking about what Pansy had just said. Nott was the first to speak up.

"That's actually not too far-fetched."

Draco frowned in thought. "Perhaps... If I phrase it right, Granger might even cooperate, she hates the arrangements as much as I do."

"You might want to avoid Zabini, then. He's not happy to be back and he's desperate to find a way out, and I don't think he cares if he takes someone down with him, which you have already experienced," said Nott quietly.

"Where is he, anyway," muttered Daphne Greengrass, who was sitting next to Nott.

Pansy motioned her head. "At the far end of the table, with your sister."

Greengrass raised her eyebrows in surprise and glanced at Zabini, who was sitting next to a girl with dark brown hair. They seemed to be having an animated conversation.

"I didn't even know you _had_ a sister," said Draco with a smirk. "Is she as cold as you are?"

"I'm not _cold_," snapped Greengrass, and Pansy and Tracey chuckled, staring down at their plates with amused expressions on their faces. The blonde girl crossed her arms and glared at her friends for a moment, before returning her glare to Draco, who was still smirking.

"Damn you three," she muttered, when she realised that they were teasing her.

They continued their meal with light-hearted conversations, occasionally teasing each other. Much too soon, the leftovers disappeared and the table was cleared. The students left their tables to make their way to their common rooms.

"See you tonight, Draco," said Pansy when she and the other Slytherins headed downstairs, and Draco made his way up to his quarters alone, feeling more irritated than ever.

X

Draco had been lying on the couch reading through his Arithmancy book for at least an hour when Granger entered the common room with a package in her hands. He had finished the first half of his essay and was now researching the second part. Granger muttered a greeting and disappeared to her dorm. After a little while she came back downstairs and put down some books on the table and sat down in one of the armchairs across him.

"Are you working on the essay?" she asked, eyeing the book he was holding. He briefly looked up and nodded, instantly returning his attention to what he was reading.

He heard her sigh before she opened a book, noisily browsing through the pages, interrupting his focus. Draco looked up, irritated, and then recognized the book she was reading. He closed his own book with a loud _snap_ and sat up, staring at the book with suppressed excitement.

"_Where did you get that?"_

Granger looked up, a brief confused expression on her face, until she realised what he was referring to. She glanced down at the book in front of her and her cheeks turned pink.

"I – um – _borrowed_ it from Professor Dumbledore..." she muttered.

"You stole it," he concluded, slightly amazed that this girl didn't seem to be fully compatible with the reputation she maintained among her fellow students.

"No..." Granger made a really uncomfortable impression. "It's complicated, okay? Please don't ask me questions."

Draco was now openly smirking at her. "You're not as innocent as you'd like to come across, are you? I wonder what people will say when they hear that their Head Girl _stole_ one of the darkest and most dangerous books known to mankind."

"I didn't _steal_ anything!" snapped Granger. "I didn't receive this book with permission, fine, I'll admit that, but that's only because Professor Dumbledore died only a few days before I got it, and he _knows_ I have it, okay?" She glared at him for a moment before she looked down at the book again. "I can't believe I have to justify myself, to _you_ of all people," she huffed.

"You started defending yourself before I asked you anything," Draco pointed out in a drawl, eyeing the book _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ with hungry eyes. "May I see that once you're done with it?"

"No, you may _not,_" she answered curtly as she turned another page. "When I'm done with this essay it's going back to where it belongs: the Headmistress' office."

"Fine," he groaned grumpily in disappointment, and he opened his Arithmancy book again, searching for the page he was reading earlier.

Each worked on their own essay in silence, and the only sounds came from flipping pages and the scribbling of quills on parchment. After about an hour, Draco threw down his quill and stretched until his back cracked. Granger shuddered at the sound, but continued writing. He observed her, briefly wondering why she didn't attempt to control all that hair. He decided that this was a good moment to propose Pansy's idea.

Granger glanced up and caught him looking at her. "What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, suspicious of the reason why he was staring at her.

"I have a proposition."

She didn't move, and her expression didn't change. "I'm probably not interested."

"I think you are," he answered. "Unless you'd _like_ to share these quarters with me for the rest of the year."

Granger moved a little, but kept looking at him. Her expression was sceptical, but she was unable to hide her curiosity. "If you think you're able to trick Professor McGonagall into letting you go back to the dungeons, then I don't think you know her very well."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I'm not trying to trick anyone. I know the old bat well enough to know she's not that easy to persuade."

"Don't call her an _old bat_ after she allowed you back," snapped Granger.

"Do you want to hear what I have to say or what?" he spat back.

They glared at each other for a moment. "Fine," she signed in defeat. "If you really think you have a brilliant plan, please, _do_ share."

He glared at her, but decided to keep his tongue and to start explaining his plan. "McGonagall's decision of me being Head Boy was initially just to keep me under supervision. She wants to see how I handle my duties and whether I've changed."

Granger stared at him, and he could read the judgement in her eyes.

"I know you're well informed on everything I've done, and more importantly, what I _haven't_ done. You know my motives."

"Do I?" she inquired softly.

Draco shot her a glare. "You know I did what I had to do to try to protect myself and my family. I realised it was an impossible task as soon as I started and I tried to find another way."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Granger said softly, a cold tone to her voice. "It's like you're talking about a homework assignment. You tried to kill the _Headmaster_ and severely injured two students in the process, nearly killing _them_ instead."

"And I would do it all again if it guaranteed my family's safety," he replied coldly, not sure if he honestly meant that. The past two years had been hell, and Draco genuinely felt bad about the things he'd done. He hadn't intended for those students to get hurt, even though he didn't particularly like either of them, but there hadn't been any other way.

That was what he kept telling himself. That was what made him sleep at night.

"I thought you would have changed after the War," said Granger, in the same soft, cold tone as before. "I honestly thought you weren't as evil as people always claimed. But you're a true Slytherin, aren't you Malfoy? Using _any means_ to achieve your ends, even if it means killing a couple of people in the process."

He brought his hands down to the table with a loud _smack_, causing Granger to jump a little. "You are close to crossing the line, Granger. Don't you _dare_ to claim you know me, because you _don't. _You have _no_ idea what I've been through."

Anger flickered in Granger's eyes. "No, of course I don't, I can't _possibly_ imagine what you must have endured. As the parents of one of Harry Potter's best friends, _my_ parents were perfectly safe, of course," she spat, her words thick with sarcasm.

"Be it as it may, you were in a _completely_ different situation and you still have no idea what it feels like to be pushed into corners with no possibility to even turn around."

"I do," came her soft answer, and she suddenly sounded vulnerable. "But you're right, I have no idea what it must have been like for you. And I have no idea what I would have done had I been in your situation."

She took him off guard, and Draco stared at her, wondering what had happened that changed her mood so quickly. He observed her for a little while as she stared at the table with sad eyes. She made him feel very uncomfortable.

"There was no point to this argument, so let's forget about it," he muttered quickly, trying to shake off this uncomfortable atmosphere. "My point is that I need this position, as I already told you before. And I'm willing to behave accordingly and work on my _inability_ to take _responsibility_," he said, mimicking her tone from earlier.

"And then what?"

"You don't want to be stuck here with me all year, I don't want to be stuck here with you, either," said Draco impatiently. "You're the one who has to report my behaviour, McGonagall trusts you. If you were to suggest a trial period, in which I have to behave and act like a responsible Head Boy... if I pass, I'd be free to go back to the dungeons."

Granger stared at him, a sceptical look on her face. "And you think you can do that? This includes a civil attitude and treating your fellow students respectfully. That includes _me_ and other Muggleborns."

"I know," he grumbled.

She eyed him suspiciously, seemingly deep in thought. "Fine, let's do this," she said after a little while. "But before I propose this to Professor McGonagall, I want to see that you mean it. Starting now. If you behaved accordingly for... let's say, two weeks, I'll try my best to convince Professor McGonagall that this is a great idea. If you can't do it, I won't."

"Why complicate this any further? You have nothing to gain from _not_ proposing it!" snapped Draco.

"I happen to take my duties _seriously, _Malfoy, and I feel strongly about standing behind my actions. You want out? That's fine, so do I, but I won't help you until I see that you show some changes that indicate that you actually care about doing well this year," snapped Granger back.

"One week."

"You are in no position to negotiate, Malfoy. I'm not the one that's stuck here; I can leave whenever I want and see whoever I want. A two week trial or no deal, it's up to you," she said in a snobby tone, turning her attention back to her essay.

"_Fine,"_ he snarled, already regretting having given her so much power over him. But it was necessary, he wanted to get out of these quarters, and he knew he would have to work hard for it. She had been right when she said he was a true Slytherin; he did use _any means_ to achieve his ends, even the unpleasant means, like relying on _her_. As long as it meant that he would get his freedom back.

He watched her write another paragraph and his mind wandered off to the previous year. Draco knew that Granger had gone off with Potter and Weasley to search for Horcruxes to defeat the Dark Lord. The papers had written about them all summer, describing them as _an_ _extraordinary trio, saving the wizarding world._ Even though it was true, it had been sickening to read.

"What now?" sighed Granger, sounding annoyed.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts. He hadn't realised that he had been staring her. "Nothing," he shrugged.

She studied him for a moment, a frown on her face. "Then please stop looking at me, it's distracting," she said grumpily.

"I was just wondering why you're writing your essay about Horcruxes."

"Why wouldn't I be writing about it?" she asked, but her voice was soft and suddenly sounded unsure.

"You're the one who had to deal with them, not me," drawled Draco, frowning at her determination to tiptoe around the subject. If she was willing to write about it, she should be able to talk about it too. And as much as he tried to force himself to believe otherwise, he wanted her to talk about it, he was quite curious to hear what they had done and he wanted to hear it from one of _them_ instead of from the papers, whose stories were cluttered with inaccuracies.

"Which is exactly why I'm writing about it; to deal with it," she retorted quietly, as she welcomed the Weasley-cat onto her lap. The beast circled two times and laid down, purring softly as Granger scratched him behind his ears.

"What _is_ that?" spat Draco in disgust, eyeing the cat.

Granger shot a glare at him, he had clearly offended her. _"This_, Malfoy, is a _cat_. His name is Crookshanks and he's half-Kneazle."

"He's ugly," remarked Draco.

"Well, you're not exactly blessed with a flawless appearance either," countered Granger crossly. "And unlike _you_, Crookshanks happens to be pleasant company."

Draco snorted. "What a ridiculous name. You could have fooled me into believing it was Weaselbee in his Animagus form if I hadn't been aware of his awful Transfiguration skill."

To his surprise, Granger snorted in amusement. "I wouldn't let Ron hear that you compared him to Crookshanks if I were you, they don't particularly like each other."

"As if I care about what Weasel King likes or doesn't like," muttered Draco, rolling his eyes.

Granger raised her eyebrows at him. "Has anyone ever had the heart to remind you that weasels and _ferrets_ are, in fact, relatives?"

Draco felt his blood creep up to his face and he stared at her in anger as he remembered the incident in their fourth year, when Moody had temporarily transfigurated him into a ferret, and the way Granger had mocked him with that by pretending the blasted Professor was standing behind him when he had made fun of her.

He noticed the smug look on her face as she pushed the cat off her lap, gathered her books and once again left, taking away any opportunity for him to have the crucial last word for the third time today.

* * *

A/N: Still inviting you to leave me feedback, positive comments and constructive criticism alike, I would greatly appreciate to hear what you think of the story so far. Thanks to the people who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. :)


	7. Chapter seven

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter seven**_

_**Friday, 4 September 1998**_

By Friday afternoon, after a morning of double Ancient Runes and a double Transfiguration class, Hermione was exhausted. Astronomy on Wednesday had been partly cancelled due to the cloudy weather, and they had studied the theory of satellites Callisto and Ganymede in the Reading Room instead of studying the night sky. Her facial skin had stopped burning completely before she'd even gone to bed, and Hermione hadn't needed to go back to the hospital wing.

Thursday had been a dreadful day that had started with a double Herbology class. They were blessed with a free period afterwards, which they had needed to shower and change into clean clothes, as they had wrestled with Venomous Tentaculas to collect its juice and leaves. It had been a tiring and dangerous class. Lily Moon, a Hufflepuff, had been transferred to the hospital wing with the tentacles still wrapped around her neck, and her face had turned a worrisome shade of blue, but she had recovered before the end of their free period.

After their free period they had an hour of History of Magic, and after lunch a double Potions class. Professor Slughorn had warned them that this year was going to be especially advanced, so every potion was going to be brewed in pairs. All their potions had to be brewed to absolute perfection so they could be transferred to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and the Ministry of Magic.

Most students had shuddered at the thought that their potions would be used in real-life situations, nervous to make mistakes. Hermione had been happy; finally they would be doing something valuable.

They had started with brewing a Blood-Replenishing Potion, which would take them three weeks to complete. Hermione had paired up with Ernie Macmillan, as she was the only Gryffindor left in class now that Harry and Ron didn't return, and Ernie was the only Hufflepuff in class. Apart from them, there were four Ravenclaws and four Slytherins, who had paired up amongst each other.

During Transfiguration they had started with Human Transfiguration, which was of such a difficult degree that even Hermione had struggled enormously, even though she alone had achieved a slight success, earning twenty points for Gryffindor.

Afterwards she had briefly visited the Great Hall to collect some sandwiches, after which she directly headed to her dormitory.

Hermione was now lying on her back on her four-poster bed, determined to rest a little before using her free afternoon to work through the large amounts of homework they had already received in the three days they had been back at school. She had already finished her Arithmancy essay about the Number of the Beast, which was due on Monday, and her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay was nearly done as well. They had not received any homework for History of Magic and Herbology, except preparing the next class by reading the assigned chapters. She would finish her essay on Horcruxes first, and then she would get started on the foot-long essay about the Blood-Replenishing Potion, which was due on Tuesday. For Transfiguration and Charms they only had to practice the spell they had discussed and performed in class, and she had already finished translating the manuscripts for Ancient Runes during class.

"_I might actually have time to relax this weekend,"_ she thought with a smile.

After having lain down for a while, having appreciated the comfort of her bed against her sore back and shoulders, Hermione sat up and ate her tuna sandwich, feeding Crookshanks the last bit. She collected her books and headed downstairs.

Malfoy was lying on the couch, reading _The Wonder of Wigtown Wanderers_ by Kennilworthy Whisp. He looked up when she put her books down on the table and grumbled something she assumed to be a greeting.

After their conversation on Wednesday evening, Malfoy had actually shown some effort to be civil toward her and their classmates. On Thursday morning he had tossed her a little green badge and told her that he was the Quidditch Captain for Slytherin. He had approached the other House's Captains to ask them about their trials in a civil manner – even Ginny.

Ginny had been completely baffled when Hermione had visited the Gryffindor common room on Thursday evening. Draco Malfoy had greeted her, asked her about the Gryffindor Quidditch trial plans while taking notes, and he had even _thanked_ her. No insults, no taunting, no name-calling.

Hermione was genuinely impressed. It seemed that Malfoy really wanted to turn over a new leaf. It was true that he ignored her more than he tried to act civil toward her, but it was a start, and a nice change from the usual taunting and childish insults. She could tell that he was struggling to sustain this attitude, but he was doing quite well, if you ignored the fact that he was rather impatient and seemed to snap easily.

She sat down at the table and opened _Secrets of the Darkest Art _for what she hoped to be the last time. Only a few more paragraphs to go and she would never have to touch this awful, awful book again.

After about half an hour, she had finally finished her essay, and put it aside, ready to start on her Potions essay. She searched the bookshelves for the potions book she had seen earlier, but found an empty space instead. She turned around and shot a questioning look at the back of Malfoy's head.

"Did you take _Potions, Philtres, Incenses and Mixtures_ by Rubens Winikus?" she asked.

Malfoy looked up from his book and turned his head a little in her direction. "Why?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I need it."

"Nott has it."

"What?" She gaped at him, feeling irritated. "Why does Nott have it when he could have just gotten it from the library?"

"If you need it, why don't _you_ go and get it from the library?" grumbled Malfoy, turning his attention back to his book.

"I shouldn't _have_ to, you should just return things to where they belong," snapped Hermione. She grabbed her things, snatched a roll of parchment from the table, and marched out the common room.

She hurried through the corridors and once she had reached the library, she claimed the table in the far corner as she always did. She was in a bad mood, which happened quite commonly when people borrowed stuff without returning it or when they just left things lying around. It was one of her biggest pet-peeves. And now, instead of being done quickly so she could go and visit Professor McGonagall to discuss her weekly report and the patrol schedule, she had to search the shelves for that bloody book she needed.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't know the library by heart – she did. But the majority of her fellow students didn't return books to the shelves they found them on, instead simply putting them on the nearest shelve when they were done. The amounts of times she had found Potions books in the Transfiguration section or Quidditch books in the Arithmancy section... Hermione shook her head in frustration and started searching the Potion section for the book she needed. She was lucky today, she concluded, when she found it almost immediately.

The Blood-Replenishing Potion wasn't all that difficult in Hermione's opinion, but there were some pretty tricky parts that she needed to reference. After having done that, she managed to finish the essay fairly quickly. She would read it through once more later today to check whether the information was complete. She put away her stuff, walked up to Madam Pince to register that she would take out a book, and made her way to the Headmistress' office.

X

"This looks very good, Ms Granger; you may distribute this schedule amongst the Houses," said McGonagall, nodding approvingly, as she gave Hermione the patrol schedule back. "Now, how were these first few days?"

"They were quite all right, Professor," answered Hermione. "It's still strange to be back after such a long period of chaos in between, but it's easier as anticipated, almost like I never left at all in the first place."

Professor McGonagall nodded and gave her a smile. "I'm glad to hear that, even though I never doubted that you would easily find your way once you were back." Her smile faded and the Headmistress pursed her lips. "What about Mr Malfoy? How have things been?"

Hermione considered this question for a moment. "I suppose it's been rather good. We have quite a history though, and I don't think things will really change between us on the short term, but Malfoy has definitely shown some effort, and I have to give him some credit for that."

"That's a good start. I really do hope he takes this seriously, but judging from last Wednesday, I suppose I shouldn't expect all too much."

"That was Blaise Zabini, Professor," pointed Hermione out.

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Professor Flitwick did mention Mr Malfoy."

"I know; they were sitting next to each other, and I'm sure they both laughed, but the rest of the Slytherins probably did too. In their defence, I did have a beard. But I spoke to Sophie Roper later, and she told me she saw Blaise Zabini cast the spell," explained Hermione. She had been seated next to Sophie during Arithmancy, and that's when her former dorm mate had asked her what she had done to Zabini to receive such a jinx from behind, which as enough proof for her to back up Malfoy's claim.

"Well if you're sure, Ms Granger, I'll inform Mr Filch that Mr Zabini will be serving detention by himself. But please do tell Mr Malfoy that he is responsible for what students do in his presence, at least to an extent."

"I have, Professor. And I'll make sure to keep reminding him."

"Very well. If you could inform Mr Malfoy of these changes, all is settled and you may enjoy your weekend."

"How is he supposed to spend his weekend, Professor? Is he to stay in the common room or is he allowed being in the Slytherin dungeons?" asked Hermione quickly.

Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair. "I suppose he's allowed to spend time in the dungeons. Let's say his curfew from Friday until Sunday is 10:30 p.m., that should be quite reasonable for someone in his position, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded, not really opinionated on the matter. She didn't mind sharing a common room with him as much as she had expected, but if they could reverse that decision and go back to their own common rooms, that would be a lot better, of course. She simply felt more comfortable among the Gryffindors. But before that could be achieved, he had to prove himself for a few more days.

"Alright, I'll see to it that his curfew is secured," said the Headmistress. With a nod, Professor McGonagall dismissed her, and Hermione made her way to the Owlery to send Harry and Ron a letter.

X

Thirty minutes later she arrived back in the common room. Malfoy had taken her place at the table in their study section and was working on his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. He didn't look up when she walked in, and kept writing.

"Professor McGonagall has approved of the patrol schedule," announced Hermione.

Malfoy nodded, uninterested, and turned a page of the book in front of him. She studied him for a moment. He looked tired, similarly to the way he had looked throughout their sixth year. He had dark circles under his eyes and he was very pale – paler than he usually was.

"And you don't have to serve detention tonight," she added softly.

His head snapped up and his eyes displayed disbelief. "What?"

Hermione sat down on the chair across from him and shrugged. "I've told Professor McGonagall that it wasn't you."

He kept staring at her. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Does it matter why? You don't have to serve detention, and you're free to spend time in the Slytherin dungeons until 10:30 p.m. from Friday until Sunday. You could just be happy."

"I think I'm going down to the Armoury after dinner to watch Zabini clean like a common house-elf," said Malfoy quietly, smirking, more to himself than to her.

"I really wonder why Dobby decided to leave and find another master," muttered Hermione sarcastically, scowling at him for the disrespectful mention of house-elves while trying to ignore the sadness she felt when she thought of the free elf that had lost his life while saving theirs.

Upon hearing Dobby's name, Malfoy's smirk faded and he stared at her with angry eyes. "I'm glad he did, he was a horrible house-elf, always looking for loopholes in our orders."

"Maybe if you had treated him with a little kindness he would have done a better job," said Hermione, glaring at him. "But instead you treated him awfully, and you wonder why he was looking for loopholes to escape?"

"Ah, that's right, you set out to be the grand saviour of house-elves didn't you?" sneered Malfoy. "Why's that, Granger? Do you feel some kind of deep connection to enslaved beings, because you yourself are inferior to the rest of wizardkind too?"

Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red and she glared intensely at Malfoy, momentarily unable to find the words to express just how angry she was right now. "You're a disgusting excuse for a human being Malfoy," she snarled eventually. "How can you even _live_ with yourself? Mistreating others just to feel better about yourself, just because you've been brought up with the idea that you might be better than other beings? And you call yourself a respectable wizard!"

"The opinion on what a respectable wizard should be like seems to differ from person to person," said Malfoy in a disparaging tone. "Just because _you_ lack understanding of what's common in the wizarding world..."

"If a house-elf really enjoyed being abused and mistreated, they wouldn't be looking for loopholes now _would they_," hissed Hermione angrily.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and scowled at her. "You have to put them in their place and keep them there; you don't want your servants to become too free," he stated matter-of-factly, sounding bored, as if he had mentioned this a hundred times before.

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Well you've managed to brainwash them for centuries, haven't you? They're under the impression that they _want_ to be enslaved! It's preposterous! Even the elves here at Hogwarts! They claimed to be _happy_ to work here, well if that were true they wouldn't have taken the hats I had knitted for them, now would they? But they did and—"

"You did _what?_" interrupted Malfoy, a wide smirk on his face. "Knitted hats? You actually _tricked_ house-elves to their freedom? And you say that _I'm _some excuse for a human being?"

She stared at him, confusion slightly replacing the anger she was feeling.

"Oh my, Granger, you're an ignorant little wench, aren't you?" sneered Malfoy softly, amusement written all over his face. "So you tried to free the house-elves, even _after_ they told you they were perfectly _happy_ working here?"

"They just don't realise what they're missing," muttered Hermione, uncertain of why he suddenly made such a blissful impression.

Malfoy's eyes were bright with mirth. "And this, Granger, this right here proves that you're but a mere intruder in a world you don't fully understand." He raised his wand and Summoned a book, which came flying down the stairs leading to Malfoy's dormitory, and landed directly into his hands.

"Now, Granger, pay close attention, all right?" he said softly, smirking maliciously at her. "I'm about to educate you. Let's see, our story begins some thousand years ago, when Hogwarts was founded. Back then, house-elf mistreatment was very common – normal even. This was before the existence of the Ministry's _Guidelines on House-elf Welfare_, even the _suggestion_ of such guidelines was simply absurd back then, and even now I doubt they're enforced. House-elves were mere slaves, and it was entirely up to their master how they treated them, and quite frankly, I believe it shouldn't be anyone else's business. Are you still listening?"

Hermione shot a glare at him, but quickly returned her curious gaze to the book in Malfoy's hands. It was an ancient book; that much was clear. She wondered where he was going, what was in this book that he needed for his propaganda. As if aware of her thoughts, he opened the book and browsed through the pages, until he apparently found what he was looking for. Malfoy turned the book so she could read it.

"At some point after Hogwarts was founded, Helga Hufflepuff – ever soft and welcoming – decided to extend this welcoming attitude of hers, not only to students that weren't wanted anywhere else, but also to beings that were mistreated." Malfoy looked up at her. He was clearly enjoying this immensely, she could tell.

"I did mention this was a dark time for house-elves, didn't I?" he smirked. "Now, Helga Hufflepuff felt sorry for them, and decided to arrange for house-elves to be welcome at Hogwarts, giving them someplace safe to work where they would not be mistreated or abused. Isn't that touching, Granger? Wasn't Helga Hufflepuff just the _kindest_ woman you've ever heard of? And here you are, trying to undo all her hard work by denying these poor little elves their safe and happy environment, freeing them against their will, throwing them out on the streets where they are utterly alone and have no one to look after them."

He snapped the book shut, and she could feel his eyes on her, but she avoided his gaze by staring down at the table.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. Next time you try to be the heroine of some oppressed species, please, _do_ investigate beforehand." Malfoy collected his belongings and left her alone at the table, heading towards his dormitory.

Hermione felt awful. For years she had tried to free house-elves, indeed against their will, simply because she was convinced that was the right thing to do, that they would appreciate it once they'd had a taste of freedom, like Dobby had. She never had a real argument, she had never tried to hear the other side, even when Ron and Fred and George had talked to her about how house-elves actually liked and appreciated working. And they were right, of course. Unlike Dobby, back when he was still in service of the Malfoy family, the house-elves here at school had great working conditions.

She had possibly ruined the lives of countless elves by freeing them against their will.

Malfoy came downstairs again and he sniggered when he saw she had remained seated in the same spot. Hermione looked up at him with a hollow gaze that he answered with a look of false concern. "Snap out of it, Granger, I'm sure they've gathered around Dobby by now, he always was an oddball, I'm sure he's their new leader now, being the Harry Potter of the house-elves."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when he said that. _He didn't even know._

"Dobby is dead," she said softly, looking up at him.

His gleeful expression faded quickly, and his eyes displayed shock, though he seemed to try to fight that back. "Oh," was all he said.

"Right after we Disapparated from your manor," she told him. "Bellatrix had thrown a knife and it Disapparated with us. It hit him squarely in his chest. There was nothing we could do..."

"I didn't ask, did I, Granger? I couldn't care less about what happened to that stupid elf," spat Malfoy, glaring down at her.

"You're responding quite forcefully to this considering you claim to feel so indifferent about him," countered Hermione, matching his glare.

"Maybe I _hated_ the bloody elf, Granger; did that ever occur to your so-called _brilliant _mind?"

"Hate is quite a passionate emotion, Malfoy. To hate something, you must have cared about it first, to some extent."

He stared at her in disbelief and anger. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," he hissed.

"Is it?" asked Hermione softly. "They don't say that there's a fine line between love and hate for nothing, you know. I would guess that you feel Dobby has wronged you in some way, or you would indeed feel indifferent about this. But you don't. Something's bothering you," she mused in conclusion, studying his face.

"So what?" snarled Malfoy, wild fury flickering in his eyes. "Does it _really_ matter to you that even my bloody _house-elf_ betrayed me in favour of Saint P—"

He cut off mid-sentence, looking as though he'd been struck across the face. He stared at her with wide eyes that seemed to be full of regret for just a second.

Hermione knew what he had wanted to say, and she also knew that he had slipped up. Malfoy had just shared a vulnerable piece of information about himself, and she realised full well that it had been completely unintentional.

Malfoy was jealous and insecure.

She opened her mouth, though not sure what she was going to say. The second he noticed he shot her such a passionate glare that she shut her mouth immediately. If looks could kill, she would have been lying dead on the floor right this instant.

Without another word, Malfoy stormed out of the common room, completely oblivious to the fact that he left behind a girl with a heart that, even for just a moment, ached for him, temporarily making her forget that he had just angered and humiliated her in a way she had never experienced before.

Draco Malfoy had been promised the world.

But reality was a cruel mistress.

* * *

A/N: And so the fun begins. :)


	8. Chapter eight

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter eight**_

_**Sunday, 6 September 1998**_

Draco had skilfully managed to avoid Granger all weekend. He had spent a lot of time in the Slytherin dungeons now that he was allowed to stay there in the evenings too, and it had done him well. The atmosphere in the dungeons was always rather pleasant in the evenings, there was always something exciting going on.

He had managed to intimidate the first- and second-years enough so that they would stop whispering about him, but he didn't scare them too much so they would find a teacher and complain. As tempting as it was, he didn't want to get in trouble for abusing his duties. It was hard to keep reminding himself to behave in a civil manner. He just hoped it would be worth it.

Zabini had been pretty angry when he had discovered that he had to serve detention all by himself, and he hadn't shown his face in the common room all weekend. During meals he seated himself close to the doors of the Great Hall and he didn't even talk to Pansy, even though they normally were on quite friendly terms.

Draco had talked about Granger with Pansy, or rather, he had been going on about it while Pansy sat silently beside him, pretending to pay attention for a generous five minutes before jumping up and exclaiming that she wouldn't hear another word about the Gryffindor Mudblood or she would throw herself off the Astronomy Tower.

At the mention of the Astronomy Tower they had smirked at each other and they had sneaked out off the Slytherin common room together, climbing the tower to enjoy the sunset. They hadn't seen much of it, though, as they had been too occupied with each other. It had improved his evening immensely, but when his curfew forced him to retreat to the Head's Tower, his good mood had gradually lessened with every step he took.

While walking through the castle by himself, Draco thought of his row with Granger and how short-lived his victory on Friday had been. He had put her in her place, and for a moment he had truly been above her, informing her of facts that she had never known, deliberately hurting her with something he knew she cared about.

But this was Granger he was dealing with.

The Head Girl was both famous and notorious for her academic enthusiasm and achievements. It was commonly known that she wanted to learn all there was to learn, which was most certainly the reason why she had returned to Hogwarts this year. But the Gryffindor girl didn't seem to stop at school-related knowledge. Draco had noticed in their early years that Granger was observant, like himself. She could read people, strip them off their pretences and see past their masks. Apparently, knowing everything about every subject wasn't enough for her, she seemed to want to know everything about her fellow students as well.

And now she was prying into his life, trying to dig up things that he had buried deep within himself. If there was one thing Draco hated, it was feeling exposed and vulnerable. He wasn't prepared to talk about his feelings or motives, or anything related to his person, at all, least of all with _her_. The less people knew about him, the less they could use against him.

He had made the biggest mistake, letting her bait him like she had to trick a response out of him. Draco felt sick to his stomach when he thought of what he had almost said to her, but he knew cutting off hadn't helped; she was smart, she had already figured out what he had meant to say. He suspected that Potter was aware of how he felt by now, and he didn't trust her to be above telling everyone else, either.

Draco had briefly seen Granger in the Great Hall during dinners, and the miserable look on her face had slightly brightened his mood. During each meal she was seated a bit further from everyone else, with only Weasley as her companion. She kept her eyes down at all times, and Draco suspected that she was feeling ashamed of being so uninformed about something she seemed to care about a lot.

Subconsciously he had made his way through the castle, reaching his destination much sooner than anticipated. He mumbled the password and entered the common room.

Granger sat snuggled up in one of the armchairs close to the fire with a big leather-bound book on her lap. She was wearing a knitted maroon-coloured jumper that was far too large for her. Her hair was damp and tied together in a messy bun, and Draco noticed that she was wearing orange socks. He tried not to snort as he quickly walked past her, trying to get to his dormitory unnoticed.

"Malfoy?"

He sighed and halted.

"I just – um – _thanks_," muttered Granger.

"For _what_?" asked Draco, turning around to face her, not quite able to mask his surprise.

Her face was pink and she didn't look at him, instead staring at her orange socks. "Snapping me out of my ignorance, I suppose," she said softly, fidgeting with a little bit of the leather bonding of the book that had loosened. "Helping me realise that I was wrong."

"I never intended to _help_ you with anything," he grumbled as an answer.

She seemed to ignore that, or maybe she really just didn't hear. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," said Draco, turning around again.

"I was just wondering... House-elves don't seem to appreciate payment, and I don't understand why, and I was hoping you could—"

"For Merlin's sake, Granger," he interrupted her sharply, turning on his heels to shoot her a glare. "Stop bothering me with this house-elf talk and that self-righteous attitude of yours!"

She turned a deeper shade of pink. "I don't want to _bother_ you, but you're the only person I know to have a house-elf in service. You know more about this than I do, and since you were so keen to _educate_ me yesterday, I just... I thought you wouldn't mind if I asked you..." her voice trailed off.

From the way she emphasised the mention of him educating her, Draco could tell that she knew it hadn't been about teaching her something. After all, that hadn't been the reason. He had just wanted to wound her, just to rub salt in it later.

It had been a short-lived victory, indeed.

He sighed again, and decided that, for the sake of his badge, and with that his future, he would give in and be civil. Grudgingly making his way towards the couch, he sat down and brushed his hair back. Granger was looking at him, surprise evident on her face.

"Fine," he said, rubbing his forehead. He remained silent for a good minute, thinking about how he would answer this question. When he was young, he had to go through quite a few books to learn how to treat their house-elves. There were specific ways of wording your orders to avoid giving the elves the opportunity to find loopholes, and there were certain rules regarding laundry, food, breaks and days off, all sorts of things, really, that needed consideration and special attention.

"I expect you to _know_ what house-elves are about," he began.

"Immense devotion and loyalty to the person or family designated as their master," droned Granger immediately, a bitter edge to her voice that made Draco smirk slightly.

"A simple _yes_ would have sufficed," he said in a way-worn tone, earning a glare from her.

"They do their work out of loyalty. If you have never paid them before and suddenly start to do so, you give them the feeling they don't do their job sufficiently, that you're unhappy with the way they work. It's like you're trying to motivate them to work harder, better. It offends and hurts them. And when house-elves are hurt, offended or unhappy – or all three, for all I care – they start looking for loopholes."

Granger kept looking down at her socks, playing with the leather bonds of the book, a thoughtful frown on her brows. "So if you must avoid hurting or offending the elves, why did you treat Dobby so cruelly?" she asked softly.

"I never did."

Her head snapped up and from the expression on her face Draco could tell that she was about to protest. "No, Granger, _don't._ You may think you know everything, but you don't," he said warningly, glaring at her.

The girl snapped her mouth shut but she continued to scowl at him.

"He was my personal elf and I was never actually _cruel_ to him, not the way my father was. He probably never liked me much, but I'm pretty sure he didn't fear me like he feared my father. When I went to Hogwarts he became my father's personal elf until he was freed."

"I've seen the way you bossed your _friends_ around, so I can only imagine how you must have treated _Dobby,_" grumbled Granger.

"I was just a _child_ and I was taught that he was my personal slave, so yes, I wasn't kind to him, but I was never _cruel_ to him. He has been in service of both my father _and_ my grandfather before me, and compared to them I was probably even _friendly_," he snapped.

He didn't understand why he was explaining himself, or why it felt so important to him that she understood, that she believed him, but somehow it mattered that she did. Draco convinced himself that it was because this subject was important to her and that if she believed that he wasn't awful to his house-elves, her weekly report about him might not be predominantly negative.

"Did you consider Dobby as a friend when you were young?"

She took him off guard again. Her question was soft and full of doubt, and Draco was sure that she was trying to understand his reaction from Friday. He stared at her, and he noticed how his cold stare affected her. Granger tried to stay composed, she tried to make a confident expression, but her eyes betrayed that she was feeling unnerved.

"Do you always feel the need to pry into other people's lives?" he asked her in the coldest tone he could muster.

"I didn't mean to—that's not what—"

"I get it, Granger, you want to _get to know _me, isn't that right?" he interjected mockingly.

Her face had become yet another shade of pink, and she was staring up at him with a nervous look in her eyes. "It just... wouldn't it make everything so much easier if I could understand—"

"I'm not your homework, Granger. I'm not one of your course projects. I don't _want_ you to understand me. My life is private and you're not invited and _not welcome_."

Draco stood up and walked up to his dormitory. Once he was upstairs, he decided to get his school bag for the next day packed and go to bed. He grabbed his timetable from his desk and noticed that his Monday was going to be particularly unpleasant.

During third period, he would have his first ever Muggle Studies class.

Groaning inwardly, he selected his books. When his bag was ready for the next morning, he changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, trying very hard to empty his head and to stop thinking about the annoying girl downstairs who seemed to be able to read him like a book.

X

_**Monday, 7 September 1998**_

When Draco entered the Great Hall the next morning, he noticed that Pansy was looking rather miserable. She was poking around her porridge and didn't seem to have much appetite. Greengrass was sitting across from her, next to Nott, with whom she seemed to be discussing an article in the Daily Prophet. Zabini wasn't with them – of course – instead he was sitting on the other end of the table with Tracey Davis, seemingly having a rather heated argument. Not paying further attention to them, he made his way over to Pansy and he sat down next to her, throwing down his extremely light book bag that only carried three books, and helped himself to some coffee and cornflakes. When she didn't even acknowledge his presence, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Pansy gave him a sour look. "My knickers don't concern you, Draco Malfoy." Greengrass let out a snort and even the usually serious Nott gave them an amused look.

"My, Pansy, I'm hurt."

"You _poor_ darling," she answered with mock concern. "But if you must know, I was informed by McGonagall this morning that she added a new class to my timetable. She _dares_ to make me take the _foulest_ class of all. I'm sure you've seen the state Zabini's in," she motioned to the far end of the table, where Zabini and Davis were still arguing. "so I think it's safe to assume it's the same for him."

Feeling slightly better that he wasn't alone, Draco let out some air. "Same for me, too, if you're talking about the class I think you are."

"You too?" exclaimed Pansy, staring at him in shock. She pointed at Greengrass and Nott. "But _they don't_ have to!"

"Unlike the two of you, we haven't discriminated against those poor, unfortunate classmates of ours that don't belong to the elite," said Nott with a nasty smirk.

Draco snorted. "Right, you came to their defence ever chance you got, didn't you? Theodore Nott, knight in shining armour, the defender of those of lesser blood."

"How dare you turn on the beliefs of your family," laughed Pansy. "Somewhere, your late grandfather is turning over in his grave."

"It hasn't been proven that he was the author of the Pure-Blood Directory," snickered Nott. "You've got it all wrong; he was a really nice guy."

Daphne Greengrass started laughing too, joining in with Draco and Pansy. "Yeah, of course, a guy named _Cantankerus_ Nott is bound to be a nice guy," she howled.

The Slytherins continued to laugh and tease each other, temporarily forgetting that some of them were being forced to attend Muggle Studies as a punishment.

"Morning, guys," interrupted Tracey Davis, seating herself next to Pansy. Zabini walked by, ignoring them, and strode out of the Great Hall. Greengrass gazed after him, shaking her head in disgust.

"Nice little ray of sunshine, isn't he?"

"You have no idea," groaned Davis. "But you were right," she said to Pansy, turning to face her friend with a sympathetic look on her face. "He had to come to McGonagall for the same reason."

Pansy groaned and stood up. "I'm going to get my books." She looked around and saw Sally-Anne Perks sitting close to them. She opened her mouth, but Greengrass was two steps ahead of her.

"Don't you even think about it."

Davis stood up as well and pulled Pansy to the doors of the Great Hall, followed by Greengrass. As the three girls disappeared out of view, Nott finished his coffee and swung his bag over his shoulder, standing up. Draco did the same and together they made their way up to the Arithmancy classroom in silence.

The class went by quickly and they had a good laugh when the Gryffindor girl that always sat beside Granger was yelled at for handing in a ridiculously short essay, but it wasn't enough entertainment for Draco to keep his mind off the class that followed.

When he found the classroom, Pansy was waiting outside in the corridor, looking both nervous and ill-tempered. They entered the classroom together, and immediately all eyes were on them, much to Draco's annoyance.

The class was quite small, consisting of only one Hufflepuff and four Ravenclaws. Surprise was evident on their faces, and one of the Ravenclaw girls, Morag McDougal, frowned in disapproval when Zabini entered the classroom quite loudly. Professor Wilberforce looked up from her notes and stood up.

"I'm sure this comes as quite a surprise to you," she addressed the students that were already sitting down. "But the Headmistress is under the impression that these students need this class for their personal development."

She scanned the three Slytherins that were still standing by the door. "I don't think it'll be a good idea for you three to sit together, so I'll rearrange the entire class. Let's see... Ms Parkinson, please come sit here, next to Mr Macmillan. Mr Malfoy, please sit over there with Ms McDougal. And Mr Zabini, you may sit over here with Mr Cornfoot."

The students reluctantly sat down in their assigned seats, with the exceptions of the two remaining Ravenclaws, Sue Li and Anthony Goldstein, who seemed relieved to be paired up with each other rather than with a Slytherin.

Draco didn't really mind sitting next to McDougal that much. She was a proper pureblood witch as well as an adequate Seeker. She was a lot better than Ravenclaw's previous Seeker, which had been proven when she was appointed Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, an honour the other girl had never received. Slytherin and Ravenclaw generally tolerated each other better than Slytherin and any of the other two Houses, so he was happy that he wasn't sitting next to that pompous Hufflepuff that Pansy was sitting next to.

Pansy was sitting as far from Macmillan as their desk would allow, and she had a pained expression on her face. At the desk next to her, Zabini was mindlessly doodling on a piece of parchment again, looking quite angry, and the boy sitting next to him shot him some nervous glances every now and then.

The class was horrible. The previous year, when Alecto Carrow had 'taught' Muggle Studies, she had just vented about Muggles for hours, how they were stupid and dirty. It had been quite amusing at times. But now they actually had to listen to how Muggles lived and how they had invented all sorts of things to survive without magic. When the bell chimed, Draco nearly ran for the door, but Wilberforce called the Slytherin's back.

"You're all _years_ behind on the curriculum, so I want you three to read this book," she announced, showing them the book _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_. "I want you to finish it before the end of this month, and you'll have to write an essay about it, also due before the end of this month. Also, during their sixth year, your fellow students have visited a Muggle family for a day to observe their life, and I want you to do this as well later this year. Please start looking for a Muggle family soon so you can make the necessary arrangements."

With that she dismissed them. Once outside the classroom, the three Slytherins momentarily forgot about Zabini's hostility.

"Can you _believe_ this woman?!"

"_Visit_ a Muggle family?!"

"For an _entire day_?!"

"Is McGonagall _insane_?!"

"What will our _families _say when they hear this?!"

"It's _disgusting!"_

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Zabini abruptly turned and left. Pansy looked as though she was going after him, but she didn't. Instead she stared after him until he disappeared around a corner, obviously torn between several different emotions. Then she turned to face him, her eyes wide and accusingly.

"What's _with_ you two?! You always got along _fine_ and now... _Why_?!" she shrieked in frustration.

Draco looked down at her, quite taken aback by her outburst. It was true that he never had a problem with Zabini before. They had never truly been friends, and Zabini had taken every chance he got to express his contempt for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, who, in his opinion, were pathetic for following around some elderly half-blood. But they usually got along just fine, like Pansy said. And the lack of contact with Zabini was clearly bothering her.

"I honestly don't know, Pansy, nor do I care much. If he wants to be a childish ass because he's stuck here, that's his problem."

"I can't stand it, you know. He's just as much my friend as you are, and now we don't talk because he's angry with _you_ because of that _stupid_ detention incident."

They walked in silence for a while, turning corners and descending stairs, making their way down to the Slytherin Dungeons to spend their free period together.

"So we're _friends_, huh," commented Draco with a weak smirk, trying to change the subject. He tolerated much, much more from Pansy than from anyone else here at school, but as much as he cared about her, he didn't like the direction this conversation was taking, and he sure as hell wouldn't go talk with Zabini just because Pansy was about to push him into that direction.

She raised an eyebrow at him and didn't try to mask her annoyance, but she couldn't help but smirk back. "Oh, shut up, you self-centered prat."

X

_**Thursday, 10 September 1998**_

The days passed slowly and were uneventful. Draco had played around with the idea to talk to Zabini, but he had yet to actually go through with it. After their conversation on Sunday evening, he and Granger had avoided each other as though it was pre-arranged. They only spoke when they had to, and Draco made sure they were never in the common room together for too long, not giving her opportunities to pry and dig.

By Thursday afternoon he had almost forgotten his anger, which probably partly resulted from the fact that Thursday was an awful day, class-wise. Five periods had passed, and there was only one more hour of Potions left. The dungeons were muggy with potion fume, and every student in the Potions classroom seemed to be quite ill-tempered. It had been a long and exhausting day.

"A little more, a little more," said Nott, staring into the cauldron, frowning with concentration, as Draco poured in the dragon blood. "Okay, that's enough," he said as he nodded in approval and moved away from the cauldron, picking up his silver knife. "If you follow the next instructions, I'll chop up the Flitterbloom."

Draco nodded and started reading the next couple of instructions. He stirred the potion clockwise, and after a few minutes, he lowered the temperature of the fire and added three drops of Re'em blood. It had to simmer for ten minutes now before the chopped Flitterbloom had to be added.

He looked around the classroom and noticed that Zabini and Greengrass were arguing, which they had been doing for the past hour. It was amusing, but taking its toll on their potion. It was supposed to have a navy blue colour by now, but theirs was a nasty brown.

"Can't you _read?!_ It clearly says to add the blood _after_ the knotgrass!" Zabini carelessly proceeded to pour the dragon blood into the cauldron, and Greengrass' face was turning a deep shade of red. _"What the hell are you doing?!" _she shrieked as she pushed Zabini away from the cauldron and feverishly started throwing in large amounts of knotgrass.

"Children, children, whatever's the matter?" soothed Slughorn, who hurried toward them.

"What's the _matter?! _Zabini is purposely ruining our potion, _that's_ what's the matter," snapped Greengrass. She poked her wand in the fire below the cauldron to lower the temperature, throwing a handful of leeches into the potion that – miraculously enough – slowly started turning blue.

The entire class was staring at the two Slytherin students, some looking amused, some looking rather annoyed.

"Now, now, let's not start with the accusations, Mr Zabini, m'boy, speak up, what happened that displeased this young lady so much?"

Zabini stared at the Potions Master with a bored expression on his face. "She's right, I did it on purpose," he shrugged. "You've got to keep it fun, right?"

Professor Slughorn seemed momentarily at a loss for words. "Mr Zabini, these potions are no joking matter!" he exclaimed, sounding surprised. "We are recovering from a _war_ and these potions are needed! I expect you to take your work here seriously!"

Zabini was utterly unimpressed with this outburst, shrugging once more. "It's not quite managing to hold my interest," he said softly, and to prove his point, he tossed a horned slug into the cauldron, instantly turning the potion into a bubbling purple mass.

Daphne Greengrass let out an angry screech and launched herself in Zabini's direction, but the two Ravenclaw guys, Cornfoot and Goldstein, had already hurried to her side and each held an arm to keep the Slytherin girl from attacking her classmate.

Slughorn started turning a rather impressive shade of blue. He glared at Zabini and he pointed one trembling finger at the door. "Out! You hear me?! _Out!" _He reached inside his pocket and handed Zabini a piece of parchment. "You will go straight up to Professor McGonagall and hand her this! Fail to do so and the consequences will be most severe. _Out, I said!"_

As Zabini strode out of the classroom, Slughorn's face slowly returned to its natural colour, and he tried to calm Greengrass down. The Ravenclaws had returned to their table, eyeing the furious girl with wary eyes.

Draco smirked at Greengrass as she desperately tried to save what was left of her Blood-Replenishing Potion. She shot him a foul glare and he heard Nott snigger.

"Ms Granger, I see that you and Mr Macmillan are quite ahead, would you please be so kind to assist Ms Greengrass with restoring her potion, hmm?"

"Of course, Professor," answered Granger eagerly. Behind him, Draco heard Greengrass moan something that sounded suspiciously like _oh god no_ and he couldn't help but smirk again as Granger moved towards Greengrass' cauldron. Nott walked past her to shelve the bottle of dragon blood they had used, but in his efforts to pass her without touching her, he tripped over his own book bag, dropping the bottle of dragon blood on the floor. The thick syrupy substance spread rapidly across the floor, and Granger slipped. In slow-motion, Draco saw how she fell over and how her big bushy mess of hair inched closer and closer to the flames underneath Greengrass' cauldron.

Without so much as thinking about what the hell he was doing, he dove forward.

* * *

A/N: And they lived happily ever after. Just kidding. But please, let me know what you think of it so far! :)


	9. Chapter nine

A/N: Dear guest reviewer who told me I should be more consistent with my updates. You were a bit too quick with your comment, I was just finishing up! I am very happy that you can't get enough of this story, I really appreciate that! However, I must admit that I'm writing this story as I go, and on some days I'm more inspired to write than on others. I have outlined the story and I know what's going to happen and when, but sometimes it's difficult to get to a planned point in the plot, and then it takes me longer to wrap up the chapter. Please be patient! :)

To everyone who has reviewed so far: thank you, it means a lot to me! I will not keep you here any longer, so happy reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter **__**nine**_

One second she was rapidly on her way to painfully plant her face flat on the with dragon blood smeared ground, the next she found herself tightly wrapped into Draco Malfoy's arms. He looked about as shocked as she felt when she'd discovered who her saviour was. The world had officially gone mad.

"For _goodness _sake_,_ Mr Nott, clean up this mess and be quick about it!" exclaimed Professor Slughorn. "What a waste, what a _waste_... Ms Granger, are you alright? No harm done?"

"I'm fine," squeaked Hermione uncertainly. Malfoy was still holding her, and she was quite certain that he was paralysed and probably mentally cursing himself for what he'd just done. She tried to move out of his grip, but his arms had gone rigid. "Um – Malfoy?" she muttered uncertainly, not sure if she wanted him to snap out of his trance.

He let go of her instantly and turned his back to her, something she'd expected. Professor Slughorn asked them to put away their potions and leave early, seeing as how this class had quickly become quite a disaster. Hermione moved back to her table where Ernie was cleaning up. She put the potion in the cabinet where the seventh-years kept the potions in progress and grabbed her bag. She quickly apologised to Ernie and hurried out of the classroom.

Once she was back on the ground floor she made for the Marble Staircase with the intention to go up to the Head's Tower and hide in her dormitory for a little while, but she was so plunged in thought that she didn't pay attention to the world around her, and walked straight into someone.

"Ow! I'm _so _sorry, I wasn't—oh my god, _Harry?!"_

She immediately abandoned her book bag and threw herself at the bespectacled boy in front of her. Hugging him tightly with her face buried in his shoulder, she started crying. Seeing her very best friend after all this time was like coming home.

"Hey, Hermione," murmured Harry Potter into her hair, hugging her back just as tightly. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she answered as she let go of him slowly. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at her friend. "What are you doing here? I know you said you'd be visiting soon, but I didn't expect to see you _this_ soon."

Harry brushed his messy black hair out of his face. "McGonagall owled me yesterday, said she had time for me today. I wanted to let you know, but I thought it'd be a nice surprise."

They had starting ascending the stairs and moved through the corridors to the Headmistress' office. Hermione noticed that Harry hadn't answered her question about why he was here, but she didn't ask again. When they reached the gargoyle, Hermione felt a little awkward.

"Do you want me to wait here?"

"No, don't be ridiculous!" answered Harry, taking her arm. "When did I ever keep something from you?"

She smiled at him as he said the password, and together they made their way up. Harry knocked on one of the double doors, and at Professor McGonagall's request they entered the office.

"Mr Potter, Harry, it's good to see you again," smiled the Headmistress. "Ms Granger, why am I not surprised to see you here?"

Harry smiled as he and Hermione both sat down on the chairs in front of the desk. "It wasn't planned, actually, she just literally ran into me downstairs." He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "What was going on, actually? You seemed a bit upset, now that I think about it..."

"Oh, it was nothing," she reassured him quickly. "I just had a near-death experience during Potions. Theodore Nott spilled dragon blood on the floor and I slipped, and nearly set my hair on fire."

Harry's words from earlier echoed through her mind. _When did I ever keep anything from you?_ She dismissed the brief hit of guilt she felt. There were more important matters at hand right now; she would tell him afterwards.

They discussed Harry's work at the Ministry of Magic and the developments that were being made, as well as the Auror's progress in catching Death Eaters that were still on the run. Professor McGonagall also asked about Neville Longbottom, who was, according to Harry, quickly becoming as good as his parents had been, even though he had already mentioned during the early stages that he didn't want to be an Auror forever.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall eventually. "Let's move on to your visit, Harry. What can I do for you?"

The-Boy-Who-Lived sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. "You may not like this, Professor, but I've done a lot of thinking the past few months, and I want to make a suggestion about something I feel strongly about." He glanced up at the empty portrait behind the large desk. "I had hoped Professor Dumbledore would be here, I could have used his support," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said the Headmistress apologetically. "His presence was requested at the International Confederation of Wizards for the election and eventually the appointment of a new Supreme Mugwump. His input is still greatly valued. But do go on," she frowned, getting back on-topic.

"It hasn't escaped my attention that the last time I was here, a portrait of the most recent Headmaster was missing, and still is."

"Mr Potter, you're not actually proposing what I think you're proposing, are you?" barked Professor McGonagall after a moment of silence, sounding rather shocked.

"I think it's a good idea."

Both Harry and Professor McGonagall turned their attention to her the second she spoke. "Ms Granger..." exclaimed the Headmistress weakly. "Why would you think that?"

Hermione shifted in her seat. "Well, we know what he did, and why. He spied on Voldemort for Professor Dumbledore, which must have been incredibly difficult, not to mention _dangerous_. Voldemort was one of the most skilled Legilimens of all time; it can't have been easy to keep his true intentions from him. A single moment of weakness and he would have been discovered. I think it was rather courageous."

"You'll be defending Snape until the very end, won't you, Hermione?" asked Harry teasingly shaking his head, referring to all the times she had been sceptical and dismissive about their many theories about where Snape's true loyalty lay. "But she's right," he said, turning his attention back to Professor McGonagall. "What he did was very brave, and he has proven himself to be, in fact, on our side. He has protected me for so long, without him I probably would have been dead for about 7 years now."

Professor McGonagall sighed and took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with her index finger and thumb. "It's not that I don't see your point, Harry, it's just... I think you're right, it may have been better if Albus were here." She put her glasses back on. "I will not make promises today, but I will discuss it with Albus once he returns, and I will let you know my decision."

"Okay," nodded Harry. "I would like to visit Hagrid, will that be okay?"

"But of course. However, I must ask you to stay away from the students as much as you can. It's been hard enough to keep them away from Ms Granger; you may not make it out alive once your fan base sees _you_ here in the flesh."

"Thank you, Professor."

The Headmistress nodded. "I will take care of the arrangements regarding your guest lectures, if you could pick them up right before dinner that would be nice. I will owl you regarding my decision. You may stay until dinner, as I'm sure you'd like to see your friends, but after you've picked up the arrangements I must ask you to leave." She shook his hand and Hermione followed him out the office.

"You did the right thing, Harry," said Hermione. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will agree with you."

"I know he will," smiled the dark-haired boy. They made their way through the corridor and sat down on one of the window sills. "So, Hermione, tell me, how are you? Enjoy being the Head Girl?"

She smiled weakly at him, knowing this was the moment where she would have to tell him everything. "I suppose I do, yes."

"So which blessed soul is it you have the pleasure of working with?"

Hermione looked down at her hands and sighed. "Draco Malfoy."

She heard her friend inhale sharply and decided to continue now that she had begun. "Professor Dumbledore appointed him, and Professor McGonagall has given me the task of monitoring him to see how well he behaves. To do so, she has arranged for us to stay in a separate common room."

Harry remained silent for a while, and after a good minute, Hermione dared to look up at him. He was staring out of the window, with his eyes dark and his jaw set.

"Harry?" she murmured.

Her best friend returned his gaze at her, anger flickering in his eyes. "How could they do this to you? After everything that has happened? What he's done? After you've been tortured in _his home_?!"

"I have asked them that myself, Harry, and I'm not happy about it either, but it is what it is, and believe it or not, but Malfoy has actually shown some effort to act civil."

"The _coward,"_ spat Harry angrily, and she wasn't sure whether he had even listened to her. "Receiving bloody _honours_ but instead they're tagged as _punishment_, Merlin, it just makes no sense!"

"I know, Harry," muttered Hermione. "I told them it should've been Anthony Goldstein, but Professor Dumbledore felt that he owed Malfoy for not protecting him the way he should have."

"I can't believe this," grumbled Harry in response. "And I actually wanted to see him to give him this." He took a wand out of his robes; the wand Hermione knew was used to kill Voldemort. Draco Malfoy's wand.

"_Expelliarmus!" _

"Hermione, what the _hell_ was that for?"

Hermione skilfully caught the wand and put it away. "Considering your current mood, I don't think it'll be wise for you to confront him, and a confrontation is needed, because you've won his wand's loyalty, which he'll now have to earn back through _me."_

Harry stared at her with unflattering disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? You're not _actually_ thinking about duelling Malfoy?"

"I just might propose that, yes," snorted Hermione. "After all, I have to spend every day in his presence; this might be just what I need to blow off some steam."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" exclaimed Harry, but he couldn't fight back a smile.

They sat next to each other in comfortable silence for a while, grinning. It was so good to have him around again, even just for a little while. She had missed Harry so much; it honestly felt as though he hadn't seen her _brother_ for months.

"How's Ron?" she eventually asked softly.

The dark-haired boy next to her sighed sadly. "Still not great, but it gets better little by little every day. I've managed to get him out of his room, so that's a start. I think I'll be able to get him to join me at the Ministry quite soon. I think he's ready." He glanced at her. "You haven't seen him at all, have you?"

She shook her head, blinking away the tears that were fighting their way to the surface. "No... Not since Fred's funeral. He wasn't even at King's Cross to see Ginny off..."

"He'll get better, Hermione," murmured Harry.

"I know," she whispered, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape. "It's just hard... I really needed him after returning from Australia, and he kept avoiding me. I _needed_ him, Harry," she sniffed. "We were finally making progress, after all these years, we were finally heading in the right direction, and now..." A loud sob escaped her mouth.

Harry embraced her, hugging her tightly as Hermione released all the tears she had been holding, all the sorrow she had felt. She sobbed into his shoulder, not caring about being strong anymore. She had been strong for long enough now; it was _her_ turn to be sad. She knew Harry understood; he understood better than anyone else what she felt.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," soothed Harry softly. "You and Ron will find your way back to each other. It might not be next week, it might not even be this year, but you will. You've loved each other for so long, and we've all been through this together, he knows that you understand how he feels. He will allow you back in eventually, but he needs time. And perhaps you do too."

"What do you mean?" she sobbed quietly.

Harry wiped away some tears from her cheeks. "Ron needs to get through his with his family, he'll need some time. You've send off your parents to keep them safe, and I'm pretty sure that terrifies them in ways we may not even understand. You need to be there for them, and allow them to be there for you. Talk to them, Hermione."

"I can't possibly tell them everything."

"You have to tell them as much as you can. They have a right to know, Hermione. You have spent so much time in the Wizarding World; they should know who their daughter is, and what she's done." His green eyes expressed concern, and Hermione knew he had a point. She had been keeping so much from her parents to keep their minds at ease, but that meant that she had also kept a lot of her personal development from them. They were not fully aware of who she was right now, and it wasn't fair.

"You're right," she said softly. "I suppose I should telling them bits and pieces during the Christmas holidays."

"Aren't you spending the holidays at the Burrow?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Yes I am," replied Hermione quickly. "But only the second week. I haven't seen my parents in over a year; I want to spend Christmas and Easter with them."

Harry nodded. "Of course," he said. "But seriously, how are things between you and Malfoy? Are you able to handle him?"

She huffed, shooting him a mock glare. "You're asking _me_ whether I can handle _Malfoy?_ You haven't been very observant over the past few years, have you? Because I'd say I've handled him better than you _and_ Ron together ever have."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" exclaimed Harry, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Of course you can handle him, how dare I even ask?"

They laughed and Hermione rested her head against Harry's arm. "I wish you could stay," she murmured. "Ginny's great, but she can't replace you and Ron."

"You should have tried harder to make us love all your activities, like homework, and S.P.E.W—We might have stayed."

A knot in her stomach tightened; a knot of which she wasn't even aware it had been there in the first place. She instantly zoned out and thought of her blunders again.

"Oh Harry..."

Harry immediately snapped his mouth shut and stared at her with a concerned expression on his face. "What's the matter, what did I say?"

"It's just... Malfoy and I had a fight the other day... And he shoved a book under my nose with information about the house-elves at Hogwarts..." Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I've been so _stupid_, Harry. Apparently Helga Hufflepuff _herself_ has arranged for the elves to have work here to give them a safe place where they wouldn't be abused by wizards, and I ruined everything with my _stupid_ hats."

For some reason Harry had begun to smile with relief, a reaction she didn't understand. "Oh, Hermione, please don't worry about that! I've caught Dobby in the common room once, and he told me that the other house-elves refused to clean the Gryffindor Tower anymore because of your hats, so Dobby did it by himself. You haven't freed any elves against their will, Hermione, I promise you. We just... we didn't have the heart to tell you at the time; you were so enthusiastic about it..."

Hermione stared at him. "Really? You're not making this up to make me feel better, right?"

"You're not seriously asking me that, are you?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows. She sighed in relief and rested her head against the cold stone wall behind her. So she hadn't ruined lives, she wasn't a horrible person. Hermione vowed on the spot that she would research everything before launching herself into some genius plans with nothing but determination to do the right thing.

Harry looked down at his wristwatch and sighed. "Only 30 minutes left, I should head down to Hagrid's. Could you do me a favour?" he asked, looking up. "Could you find Ginny for me? I think she'll kill me if she finds out I was here without seeing her."

"Of course," smiled Hermione. "When I find her we'll come down to Hagrid as well, okay?" After Harry nodded conformingly, they parted ways.

X

Ginny was uncharacteristically quiet during dinner. She stared at her plate with sad eyes and poked around her food. Hermione knew that it was because she had tried to make up for two months of lost time in only twenty minutes, and it hadn't nearly been enough. Ginny missed Harry just as much as she did, if not more.

Hermione didn't try to keep up a conversation as she didn't want to force anything, but she was grateful when Seamus and Dean decided to sit across from her and Ginny. After having made a bit of small talk about their homework, Dean put down his goblet and looked at her with glinting eyes.

"I have discovered who my father was," he said, a broad grin on his face. "I'm now officially a half-blood wizard."

"What?!" exclaimed Hermione with excitement, having hastily swallowed her food. "How did you find out?"

"Harry helped me; he asked around at the departments within the Ministry and found someone, a professional, who was willing to help me." He took a bite of his pork chop and washed it away with some pumpkin juice. "He was able to determine who my father was and what happened to him. Apparently, he refused to join the Death Eaters, and he abandoned me and my mother to protect us. Unfortunately, he was killed soon after."

Hermione put down her fork. "I'm sorry to hear that, Dean."

The dark-skinned boy gave her a half-hearted smile. "Yeah... It's fine, really. I've never known him, right? It'd be silly to grief now. Besides, my Dad will always be my Dad; he raised me as his own. It's just... nice to know that my father didn't leave my mother without good reason, that he was trying to protect us."

"All in all, that's great news, Dean," said Ginny softly.

"Thanks, Ginny," smiled Dean. "It's nice to finally have some closure, I suppose."

He focused on his meal as Seamus started a conversation about Muggle football, while Ginny grabbed a large chunk of chocolate cake.

"Are you okay?" muttered Hermione.

Ginny merely nodded in response and subsequently proved to be family of Ronald Weasley by shoving half of the cake into her mouth at once. Hermione momentarily stared at her with wide eyes, a bit shocked at her friend's sudden lack of table manners, but decided to keep her mouth shut about it. After all, she knew Ginny was upset, which was proven by her apparent desperate need of chocolate.

The boys eventually managed to have her engage in their conversation about the 423nd World Cup, which had been held a month prior in Japan. Bulgaria had been beaten by New Zealand in the semi-finals, a grumpy Viktor Krum had informed her through one of his most recent letters, and Japan had lost to Argentina. The finale between New Zealand and Argentina had been exceptionally long; the game had lasted for 32 hours until Claire Mulligan, the Seeker of the New Zealand team, had finally caught the Golden Snitch. She had refused to be substituted during the game and passed out from exhaustion immediately afterwards.

Hermione excused herself and left the Great Hall, making her way up to the Head's Tower with the intention of finishing up her research homework for Arithmancy, but the second she entered the common room through the portrait hole and noticed Malfoy sitting on the couch, she knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

The look on Malfoy's face startled her. At first glance, he seemed to be positively livid, but after having stared at him for a moment, she saw that anger was not all he was feeling. There was some anxiety as well. He stood up and walked up to her, and for the first time Hermione fully realised how tall Malfoy was, and how intimidating he was, staring down at her with those cold, grey eyes.

"_Who_ did you tell, and _what_ did you say?!" he demanded through gritted teeth.

Hermione stared up at him, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about? Who should I have told what?"

"Don't answer a question with another question! You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" snapped Malfoy.

_Potions._ He was talking about the incident during Potions, informed a little voice in her head her quietly. And of course he was, she should have expected as much, but Harry's brief visit had completely distracted her from it.

"I haven't told anyone anything," she said softly. "But I don't see why it would matter if I had."

Malfoy took another step in her direction, and she could actually feel his breath on her face. The way he was glaring down at her unnerved her, but she tried not to show him, and she prayed that he could not hear the way her heart furiously pounded in her chest.

"Don't _lie_ to me," he hissed. "I don't believe for a moment that you wouldn't spread the story of how the oh-so-_horrible_ Draco Malfoy was actually _kind_ enough to _save _you, and how there's actually still _hope_ for him."

"Believe what you want, I haven't said anything," scoffed Hermione. "I actually had something better to do this afternoon." With those words, she reached inside her robes and took out his wand. Malfoy instantly tried to snatch it out of her hands, but she was too quick for him, and with a flick of the wand she threw him backwards, onto the couch.

"_How dare you!"_ he spat angrily, glaring at her with disgust. "How _dare_ you attack me with my own wand, you _filthy_ _Mudblood!"_

"Self-defence," answered Hermione sharply. "And I will keep this until you stop behaving like this! I gave you a two-week trial for something _you_ desperately want, but it doesn't look like you're going to pass."

She folded her arms, keeping the wand tightly in her hand.

"That's theft, Granger," hissed Malfoy softly. "This is the second time I catch you with something you've taken without the owner's permission."

"Well actually, Malfoy," said Hermione slowly. "you are not the owner of this wand anymore. Its loyalty goes out to someone else at the moment, meaning it's _mine_ right now."

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Hermione walked over to the armchair across from Malfoy and sat down. She was confused about her feelings at the moment. One part of her was angry at Malfoy for behaving like some spoiled child, another part of her felt sympathetic about his determination. He was clearly struggling between pleasing the people that expected things from him and staying true to the image he had built for himself over the years.

"I wish you would tell me why you're so determined to be the bad guy," said Hermione softly.

"I want you to stop prying into my life," answered Malfoy, suddenly sounding tired. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Malfoy..."

"_No!"_ he shouted. "I told you to _stop! _What I do, how I feel, it's _my_ business, and I'll share it when I feel like sharing, with whomever I _choose_ to share it with!" He rose from the couch and walked around it.

"You're not evil, you know. You've made a mistake, we all make mistakes. That doesn't mean you should give up on kindness."

Malfoy stopped moving towards the door that led to his dormitory, but didn't turn around. "You know nothing about me," he said softly, and every trace of hostility had vanished from his voice.

"I know you refused to confirm our identities, when we were taken to your Manor. I know that may have saved our lives," she whispered.

He whirled around so fast that Hermione realised too late that he had his wand pointed in her direction. She gasped as he Disarmed her, and the wand she had held tightly was now flying across the room, making its way towards its rightful owner.

"It's like you said, Granger," said Malfoy after having caught his wand, a dangerously angry edge to his voice. "We all make _mistakes_."

With those words he turned on his heel and marched up to his dorm, but Hermione remained seated, replaying his last sentence over and over, feeling as though she had just taken a blow to the stomach.

* * *

A/N: I think feedback is the most wonderful thing, and I would adore you if you take the time to share your opinion with me!


	10. Chapter ten

A/N: I don't think you know how happy you've made me with your reviews. It's so nice to read that there are people who actually enjoy what I'm doing here, and I really appreciate that you've taken the time to let me know. Many, many thanks! (I'm smiling like an idiot here, are you happy now?)

As a token of my gratitude: here's a quick update. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter ten**_

_In slow-motion, Draco saw how she fell over and how her big bushy mess of hair inched closer and closer to the flames underneath Greengrass' cauldron. Without so much as thinking about what the hell he was doing, he dove forward._

Draco couldn't quite comprehend what he had just done, and that was very much unlike him. This was one of the very few times he didn't understand his own motives, that he had done something so impulsive that he had shocked himself. He tried to convince himself that he did it for his Head Boy badge. After all, McGonagall and Granger had made it clear that what happened around him was his responsibility to an extent, and if the Head Girl got hurt on his watch, he would most probably be the one to pay.

"My, my, Malfoy, I wasn't aware of the fact that you aspired to be a knight in shining armour as well! I rather like the sound of it, Nott and Malfoy, protectors of those born with lesser blood," sneered Nott.

"Thank goodness for your _incredible_ Seeker reflexes, Malfoy, you caught her with the ease you'd catch the Golden Snitch with," laughed Greengrass. "One-hundred-and-fifty points to you!"

Pansy hadn't taunted him; instead she had wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What the bloody hell would you do _that_ for?!" she'd exclaimed. "Touching the Mudblood... In _public! _You've gone _mad!"_

The more he had thought about it, the less he understood of his motives. _Why_ had he dived forward to help Granger? He didn't know, and not being in control of what he felt made him anxious, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. And for some reason, even his obvious anger didn't stop her from prying into his life to get a glimpse of how he felt, as though that hadn't been obvious at all.

And now he was standing in his dormitory, breathing quite heavily. What the hell was _wrong_ with that stupid girl? Why was she so determined to _understand_ him? Draco walked over to his four-poster bed and let himself fall down on his back.

For a moment he had actually wanted to believe her. When she had told him that he wasn't evil, that he had just made a mistake, she had sounded so sincere, and for a moment he was ready to give in and believe her. But in the end she had proven to be no different from the rest. She didn't actually believe that he wasn't evil. One minute she was making up excuses for his behaviour, writing them off as a mistake, telling him how there was no way he was _actually_ _evil_, and the next minute she instantly believed that he would have let her and her friends die if the War happened all over again.

_Hypocritical wench._

Draco realised full well that he had lied to her. There was no way he would have actually betrayed them, not at the time, given the circumstances. When they had been dragged into the Manor, he hadn't seen a bunch of people he had despised for years, who were about to receive what they deserved. Instead he had seen a bunch of people. Just people. People his age that were going to die if he spoke up. He honestly hadn't cared about how big their differences had been during their time at school together. This wasn't school, this was a War, and the difference between getting someone in detention or having someone expelled contrasted to having someone killed was too big for him to handle.

But he couldn't admit that, he wouldn't. People already thought he was a traitor, that he was weak.

He played around with the wand he had finally won back after having lost it for months, briefly wondering how Granger had gotten it, and why. His mother would be glad to have her own wand back; she had been wandless ever since he was back at school as she had given him her wand so he could participate in class.

Draco sighed. He would be glad if the weekend was here.

X

_**Sunday, 13 September 1998**_

"Malfoy!" shrieked a female voice from somewhere behind him as he made his way down to the Slytherin dungeons. Draco whirled around and found himself facing a rather upset Daphne Greengrass.

"What's wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and surprise. It wasn't like Greengrass to display her emotions in such an obvious and public way. In all the years he'd known her, he had never seen her in tears before.

"Pansy's in the hospital wing. She's been attacked and in pretty bad shape."

"What?!" exclaimed Draco in shock. All of a sudden he felt cold, as though someone had opened a window in the midst of the winter. "Why would anyone attack Pansy?!"

Greengrass sniffed and wiped away a tear before it could escape her eye. "Because of what she tried back in May, when she wanted to hand Potter over. We don't know who it was."

"It's been nearly two weeks, why would they wait this long to have their sodding revenge?!"

"Malfoy... this isn't the first time..."

He stared at his classmate for several long seconds before he abruptly pushed her out of the way and hurried through the corridors, making his way to the hospital wing. Once inside, he spotted Pansy immediately, sitting on one of the beds, looking as though she had been hit by a number of Stinging Hexes. Madam Pomfrey was still taking care of her, carefully moving her wand across Pansy's face, muttering the healing spells. Draco heard Greengrass enter the infirmary after him, and together they waited for the matron to be done.

After the swelling on her face and arms had been reduced to none, Pansy tried to get up from the bed, but was pushed back by the nurse. "Leaving is out of the question, Ms Parkinson," barked Madam Pomfrey. "You have a broken wrist and several bruised ribs; you are not going anywhere tonight."

"I'm _fine_, I refuse to stay here!" snapped Pansy irritably, attempting to get up from the bed once more, but Madam Pomfrey had apparently expected that, and she surprised Pansy by quickly pouring a cup of Sleeping Draught down her throat.

"You... you... you _awful_ woman!" sputtered the Slytherin girl weakly as the potion rapidly took effect. She tried to resist for a brief moment and then dropped down on her left side, fast asleep.

Draco marched forward. "I hear that this is not the first time something like this has happened to her, is that true?" he demanded from Madam Pomfrey.

The matron raised her eyebrows in disapproval of his tone. "That is true," she answered eventually, her lips pressed together in a tight line. She moved Pansy into a proper position, pulling the blankets up to the girl's chin. "This is the fourth time I've seen Ms Parkinson over the past two weeks, but this is the first time she has to stay."

"We were about to walk down to the Dungeons," added Greengrass softly. "She was hit from behind and then she fell down both sets of stairs, which is why she's so bruised."

"Why hasn't anybody told me anything?!" snarled Draco, turning to face Pansy's best friend.

Greengrass took a deep breath, but refused to be intimidated. "Because she didn't want you to know, she said you had enough on your plate as it was!" she snapped back, glaring at him. "And stop being so bloody hostile, I've told you this time, haven't I?!"

Madam Pomfrey had finished healing Pansy's wrist and walked around the bed towards them. "That's quite enough excitement for today. Out, you two, this girl needs to rest," she said brusquely, literally pushing them all the way out of the infirmary.

"Next time you'll tell me," grumbled Draco, glaring at Greengrass. She merely sneered at him in return and departed. Draco turned back to the hospital wing, glancing through the door. Madam Pomfrey was in her office, taking care of a pile of paperwork. He sneaked back in and hurried to Pansy's bed, which was just out of the office's view. Kneeling down next to her bed, he looked at her for a while and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"You stubborn, secretive wench," he whispered after a little while, quickly pressing a kiss on her forehead before getting up again and hastily leaving the infirmary, not aware of the fact that Madam Pomfrey was staring after him as she stood in the doorway of her office, shaking her head with a small smile on her lips.

X

_**Wednesday, 16 September 1998**_

Pansy was allowed to leave the hospital wing on Monday morning, able to attend all classes. She had fully recovered, although she was a lot quieter than Draco was used to, and she had a wary look in her eyes at all times. He hadn't asked her why she had kept from him that people had been attacking her, but it bothered him that she had, even if her intentions had been thoughtful.

Zabini was finally behaving normally again. After Greengrass had informed him of the reason why Pansy had to stay the night in the hospital wing, he had rushed over, only to find her fast asleep. He had joined Draco and Greengrass the next morning when they went to pick her up before breakfast, and to everyone's surprise, he had actually apologised to her for treating her poorly, and he hadn't left her side since.

Meanwhile, Granger avoided him like the plague. Draco hadn't seen her in the common room for days, and he suspected that she had resorted to the Gryffindor Tower, not returning to the Head's Tower until she knew for certain he was up in his dorm, which was often after midnight. Even though he thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet and the fact that he now had the entire common room for himself, he was starting to feel rather nervous about Granger's absence. It couldn't possibly be a positive sign for the report she would hand in on Friday, and even worse, their deal, which would probably be off right now.

"Mr Malfoy, may I please divert your attention back to the lecture?" barked Professor Merrythought. Draco snapped out of his thoughts and to his annoyance he noticed that every student in class had turned their heads to stare at him. Next to him, Nott sniggered quietly.

"Ms Granger, please proceed."

"The Lethifold, also known as a Living Shroud, is a carnivorous and highly dangerous magical and amortal creature. It is considered a Dark creature because of its aggressive and violent nature. The Lethifold is a very rare species, and can only be found in the tropics. It attacks its prey at night, when the target is asleep, and suffocates and digests it in its bed."

Professor Merrythought nodded. "Very good, take 20 points to Gryffindor. The Lethifold are very similar to Dementors, but there are some striking differences, who can tell me the biggest difference? Ms Bones?"

"Dementors feed on happiness, and ultimately, their victim's soul. Lethifold, on the other hand, suffocate their victims and feed on human flesh," answered the Hufflepuff redhead.

"Very good. Now, how does one protect oneself against a Lethifold? Yes, Ms Turpin?"

"The only known form of protection is the Patronus charm."

"Correct, Ms Turpin, thank you girls, 10 points to both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Now, it's been rumoured that several students here at Hogwarts have managed to conjure a fully corporeal Patronus," said Merrythought, eagerly scanning the classroom with twinkling eyes. "Does that, by any chance, include any of you?"

Draco sat up a little straighter and looked around as well in curiosity. He knew that successfully conjuring a fully corporeal Patronus was immensely complicated and very difficult, and he could hardly believe that anyone here was actually able to do so, but after a few moments, in which several of his classmates had exchanged hesitant glances, he was proven wrong. Granger was the first to raise her hand, and was soon followed by Seamus Finnigan, Ernie Macmillan, Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, the Ravenclaw Patil girl and Terry Boot.

The old witch's face lit up with excitement. "Impressive, very, _very_ impressive," she said softly. "I would like for you seven to write an essay about your Patronus and why you think it takes the form it does. For the rest of you, a detailed essay about what a Patronus is, how it's used, what it takes to conjure one and the distinct differences between a corporeal and a non-corporeal Patronus. Due next Wednesday!"

X

_**Friday, 18 September 1998**_

There was a grand party going on in the Slytherin Dungeons, but if you'd ask around, you'd find out quickly that no one knew why, or who started it. Not that the reason mattered to anyone, all that mattered was that it was Friday, and that there was a party, which meant that suddenly everyone was in the possession of alcohol.

The first-, second-, and third-years were forced to accept that they weren't welcome, and they had grudgingly retreated to their dormitories. It was unfortunate enough that they weren't allowed to stay in the common room to enjoy the party, but even more unfortunate was the fact that none of them was able to cast a Silencing charm on their dorm walls and doors, which was part of the fifth-year curriculum.

Draco had settled down in a corner near the fireplace with sixth-years Niles Hanley and Garrick Newbourne and fifth-year Holden Ledbury, discussing the Quidditch match from the previous night between Puddlemere United and the Karasjok Kites from Norway. The game had ended in a riot and several people were arrested. The Quidditch commentator had been transferred to St. Mungo's with severe head injury after both Beaters from the Norwegian team had simultaneously hit their Bludgers in his direction. They had both been fined with a large amount of Galleons, despite their protests that he had been asking for it for calling them brainless Vikings on sticks.

After a little while, a pretty blonde girl walked up to them and seated herself on Ledbury's lap. Her friend, a nice-looking brunette with a sour look on her face, reluctantly sat down on the only empty chair, between Draco and Newbourne. She looked quite familiar, but Draco didn't quite remember why.

Ledbury and the blonde girl started snogging, and the brunette sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes at the couple. Draco smirked at her. "You're not jealous, are you?"

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Oh yes, very jealous indeed. I would love to have my face eaten off in public," she said sarcastically, but the bitter tone in her voice indicated that she was, in fact, a little jealous.

Zabini arrived, two glasses of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey in his hands. He offered one to Draco, who looked at it with his eyebrows raised. "Peace-offering," said Zabini simply. Draco shrugged and took the glass, disposing of his Daisyroot Draught bottle by throwing it into the fireplace, which currently seemed to be serving as trashcan. Garrick Newbourne excused himself, and Zabini took his place.

"So," he said after a sip of the alcohol. "how do you two know each other?" He gestured from Draco to the brunette and back.

"We actually _don't_ know each other," answered the girl in a bored tone. "I just know his name, and that he's in my sister's year, like you."

Suddenly Draco realised why the girl looked so familiar. She was a younger version of Daphne Greengrass, albeit with dark hair instead of white blonde. "You're Daphne Greengrass' sister," he stated.

The girl smirked at him. "Seems like we do know each other after all." She extended her hand. "Astoria," she introduced herself.

Draco took her hand and shook it. "Draco, but I suppose you already knew."

"Yeah," she nodded.

Holden Ledbury and his blonde catch stood up, both with broad grins on their faces, and without as much as a goodbye they left, undoubtedly retreating to a dormitory. Astoria Greengrass glared after them, huffing.

"Your friend is such a polite young lady," sneered Zabini. "What's her name, though? She's rather good-looking."

Astoria raised her eyebrows at him. "Her name's Imogen Stretton, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, she and Holden have been together for two years now, and as you may have noticed," she carelessly motioned toward the stairs that led to the dorms. "they're still happily together.

Draco snorted. "Imogen? What a ridiculous name."

"Says the boy whose name is the Latin word for Dragon," retorted Astoria with a glare in his direction. "You don't look much like a dangerous fire-breathing reptile to me."

Zabini, who was dragged into another one of Niles Hanley's Quidditch talks, chocked on his Firewhiskey and badly tried to cover up his laugh by coughing loudly. "Excuse me," he said, and casually proceeded to discuss the latest match of the Chudley Cannons and how one of their Beaters' Transylvanian Tackle had gone horribly wrong.

"Hey, Amy!" shouted Astoria over her shoulder to a girl with long black hair. "Bring me some of that Elderflower wine!"

The girl walked over and handed her a glass of the wine she had requested and sat down when Hanley stood up and offered her his chair. "Where's Imogen? I haven't seen her in ages!"she exclaimed dramatically, looking around the common room.

"Probably in Holden's bed," smirked Astoria.

Zabini gulped down the remainder of his whiskey. "Would you like to see a bed as well, beautiful?" he said with a smirk, addressing Astoria's friend.

"Sorry, is your name Astoria?" asked the girl in a snobby tone. "No, didn't think so. Guess what? That means I wasn't talking to you."

"Cheeky!" exclaimed Zabini, his dark eyes glinting with excitement. "I like you _very_ much," he told the girl with a seductive wink. Despite trying hard to seem unaffected, a blush appeared on the girl's pale cheeks and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She exchanged a glance with Astoria, who was merely smirking as she sipped her wine, enjoying the banter in silence. Draco concluded that Zabini had already reached a point of no return, which basically meant that he would be in dire need of a Pepper-up Potion tomorrow. He was an obnoxious drunk.

Pansy and Tracey Davis joined them, and the six of them had an enjoyable time together, until suddenly a neatly folded paper aeroplane landed on Draco's lap. He put his glass aside in surprise and unfolded the paper that strongly reminded him of the memo's he had so often seen at the Ministry of Magic, not quite knowing what to expect.

_Mr Malfoy—_

_Your curfew has passed an hour ago. If you don't get back to the Head's Tower in a timely fashion, you will be serving detention every day for the remainder of this month. This is your first and only warning._

_Signed,_

_Professor McGonagall_

Draco closed his eyes, his good mood instantly gone. He had completely forgotten all about that sodding curfew. For the first time in months he was actually having a good time, and of course it had to be ruined for him again. Without fully realising it, his hand formed a fist, crushing the piece of paper. A warm hand touched his knee, and when he looked up he found himself staring into Pansy's concerned eyes.

"What's the matter?"

He pushed the memo into her hands with more force than he had intended, causing her to wince a little. Draco mentally cursed himself. He had forgotten all about her wrist. Pansy smoothed out the paper and quickly read the message. She then looked up at him with genuine confusion.

"What are you still doing here?" she hissed quietly. "Go!"

With a heavy sigh, he got up, for the first time actually doing what Pansy told him to do.

X

_**(almost) Saturday, 19 September 1998**_

When he arrived back at the entrance of the Head's Tower, little over twenty minutes had passed, and he hoped that was within McGonagall's boundaries of a timely fashion. He doubted that she would accept that he had to take a longer route back to avoid Peeves seeing him. He had spotted the Poltergeist in one of the main corridors, floating below the ceiling with a pile of silver plates from the kitchens in his hands, ready to throw them at unsuspecting students that were out after hours, like himself.

Draco muttered the password and entered the common room.

Granger was lying on the couch with her cat on her legs, reading a book. When he walked in, she looked up, staring at him in surprise before looking down at her wristwatch. She snapped her book shut and sat up. The cat hissed and jumped up, moving to one of the armchairs, where he resettled.

"Where have you been? It's nearly midnight! I thought you were already asleep, or at least up in your dormitory!" exclaimed Granger, sounding utterly confused.

"None of your business," he grumbled in response.

She sighed and looked away from him, getting up from the couch. Just as she was about to climb the stairs to her dorm, something repeatedly tapped against one of the windows. Granger turned around, her eyebrows raised. She looked at him with a questioning look in her eyes, but Draco had already moved toward the window, opening it.

No less than three owls entered the common room. They all gracefully descended on the back of the couch, offering Granger the rolls of parchment, envelopes and packages they were carrying. Draco stared at her as she approached the birds, slightly blushing as she took the mail that was addressed to her.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he asked in annoyance, eyeing the owls.

Granger briefly looked down at her wristwatch. "It's my birthday," she said softly. She had taken the last envelope and the birds departed through the open window. She sat down on the couch and opened the first roll of parchment.

Draco stared down at her, still standing in front of the portrait hole. He noticed the way her eyes lit up more with every sentence she read. She seemed to glow with happiness and excitement, and as though it was contagious, he felt his mood brighten as well.

Two more owls entered through the still open window, both carrying a small package and a letter, and the colour on Granger's cheeks deepened. She seemed to be both flattered and embarrassed with the attention, and Draco almost smiled. He noticed how her hands were slightly trembling as she released the owls from their burden, and suddenly he was hit with the realisation of what he was doing. He was staring at Granger. _Why_ was he staring at Granger? Why was he standing here at all?

Shaking his head, he crossed the common room, but he halted in front of the stairs. Slowly turning around, he stared at the back of Granger's head. Without thinking about it, or fully realising what he was about to do, he opened his mouth.

"Granger?"

She stopped unwrapping the package in her hands and turned around to look at him. The blissful look in her eyes quickly faded, and he noticed that her expression became guarded. For some reason he didn't quite understand, he didn't like that change at all.

Without a moment's hesitation, without having planned it, or without even giving himself permission for it, he opened his mouth again.

"Happy birthday," he said softly to his own surprise, and he turned around to climb the stairs, feeling oddly and inexplicably content.

* * *

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and I'd love to hear whether you did!


	11. Chapter eleven

A/N: Dear readers, friendly reminder that only NINETEEN days have passed in this story since the arrival at Hogwarts. That's only little over two weeks. So _please, _be patient. I know what you all want, and it will happen. But it will take _time__. _It may not happen exactly _how_ you want it, but it will happen at some point. Draco _will_ die at some point. Wait, what? Oh, wrong plot-line. Sorry. Just kidding. ;)

_Patience,_ fangirls and fanboys. _Patience. _Slow development, remember?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter eleven**_

"Granger?"

Hermione turned around slowly and stared at the boy behind her with suspicion, prepared for another insult, another vile comment.

"Happy birthday," said Malfoy softly, and then he disappeared to his dormitory.

She stared at the spot where he had stood moments ago, not sure what just happened. She felt shocked and briefly wondered whether she had imagined his birthday wish. He had sounded so uncharacteristically... _friendly._

Slowly turning back, Hermione got back to unwrapping the package in her hands, albeit absent-mindedly. Once the wrapping was removed completely, she gasped for air, instantly forgetting about Malfoy and his strange, fickle behaviour.

In her hands she held an ancient handwritten book titled _The Founders of Hogwarts, A Complete And Uncensored Biography. S_he had been dying to get her hands on this book for _years_ now, but it was incredibly rare and valuable. She reached for the letter that had been attached to it with a broad smile.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Happy birthday, or as we say it here, Честит рожден ден. I hope you'll have a really nice day with your friends. I remember when during one of our very first conversations you mentioned this book, so when I found it in Magical Plovdiv, I just had to buy it for you. I have been told that there are only seven copies in existence and that each copy is unique and signed by the Founders themselves. Please keep it safe, it's very, very valuable. I had to use all my connections to get this for you. _

_I have yet to answer your previous letter; I will try to do that before the end of the month. Our new manager is vicious: he makes us train twice a day and we have to do more interviews than ever. We'll all be happy to be on a winter break soon. _

_Hopefully we'll see each other soon again. You cannot refuse this time, Clara will not take no for an answer. She really wants to meet you._

_Let me know once you've made a decision, you know you're always welcome!_

_Have a great birthday, Hermione._

_много любов,_

_Viktor_

She stared from the letter at the book and back, quite breathlessly. She couldn't believe that Viktor had gone through all that trouble to get this book for her birthday. He loved Quidditch more than anything, but he _despised_ the fame that came with his spot on the Bulgarian National team. And now he had actually _used_ it to achieve something. Hermione shook her head, smiling, unable to remember the last time she had felt such gratitude.

A few months ago Viktor had written her that he had started dating his team mate, Clara Ivanova, and Hermione felt really happy for him. Even though their own short relationship four years ago had been great, the distance between them made things too difficult to continue. It also just wasn't the right time, and her feelings for Ron had confused her. Viktor had kept hope for a while afterwards, but after having seen each other at Bill and Fleur's wedding, when he had learned that her feelings for Ron had continued to grow, he had given up on her.

He and Clara had been really good friends for years, and they had a lot in common, according to Viktor. Their friendship had gradually grown to be more, and they had been officially dating for months now. Hermione could only imagine how much the local press loved that. She was really happy that he had found love, and it amused her that Clara insisted on meeting her. She would have to make arrangements to visit them in Bulgaria after all.

Hermione moved on to the other packages. There was a short letter from Harry. He had given her a beautiful pearly-white quill and a box of her favourite sugar-free sweets. Mr and Mrs Weasley had sent her a box of home-made caramel-chocolates and a knitted crimson scarf and matching hat. Neville had sent her a long letter and a beautiful flower that could absorb sunlight and save it for dark days. There was also a letter from Bill and Fleur and one from her parents, who had sent her a lovely cornflower blue cardigan, a lilac folder for her notes and a couple of classic Muggle books.

She gathered all her presents with a smile and made for her dormitory. Even though she didn't care much for birthdays, this one promised to be great.

X

"Happy birthday Hermione!" said Ginny happily, embracing her friend tightly before adding some blueberries to her porridge. Luna skipped over from the Ravenclaw table as well, congratulating her with a big smile on her face. She pushed a little package in Hermione's hands, wrapped in the most colourful paper Hermione had ever seen.

"Luna!" exclaimed Hermione with a smile. "You shouldn't have!"

"Don't be silly, Hermione, with a birthday comes a present!" said Luna seriously.

Hermione started unwrapping the gift, wondering what the Ravenclaw girl would have gotten for her. It could truly be anything. Inside the wrapping she found a little box that contained a gorgeous shell. At first glance Hermione believed it to be pink, but when she examined it and the light shone on it from a different angle, it turned from lilac to blue to purple to white and back to pink.

"Oh Luna, it's beautiful!"

"Hold it near your ear!" said the girl with a smile as she settled down on the bench beside Hermione, filling her plate with some egg and tomato.

Doing as Luna asked, Hermione brought the shell up to her ear, expecting to hear an echo of the blood flowing through her veins, giving the illusion of the sea, but she heard a beautiful humming noise that sounded oddly familiar instead. "What is it?" she asked in surprise.

"It's the sound of Merpeople singing. I charmed it myself," announced Luna. "The changing colours on the shell were rather easy, but the sound quickly faded away on the first few tries. I think I've got it now, though," she said proudly.

That explained why it sounded so familiar, realised Hermione. She must subconsciously have heard the Merpeople sing when she was down in the Black Lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. She kept the shell to her ear for a little while; it was a very relaxing sound.

Luna smiled at her. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," answered Hermione honestly, smiling at her blonde friend as she put the shell back in the box. "Thank you so much, Luna, it's absolutely great!"

Ginny reached for the box and took the shell, holding it near her own ear. "Oh wow, that's beautiful," she muttered dreamily as she listened to the Merpeople's song. "Where did you get this?" she asked Luna.

"I found it near your brother's cottage," the blonde answered after swallowing a spoonful of egg. "I found several; I couldn't leave them. Dean said I was silly."

"Hey! No I didn't!" exclaimed Dean with a snort, who had just entered the Great Hall and was about to sit down when he caught the last bit of the conversation. He wished Hermione a happy birthday and proceeded to tease Luna. Ginny pushed a package in Hermione's direction, still holding the shell to her ear. "I hope you'll like it," she said with a smile.

Hermione removed the wrapping and found a crimson sweater inside, as well as a pair of tiny golden earrings and an elegant, fragile-looking golden bracelet. "Oh, they're beautiful," she said softly, carefully moving the bracelet through her hands, examining the details that were carved into the gold. "Thank you so much, Ginny!"

The redhead smiled. "I thought, you're graduating this year, it'd be nice to have some accessories for such a special occasion."

"How thoughtful of you," smiled Hermione back.

Even though she never really dressed up, during her sixth year she discovered that having a few accessories would be nice. Being a member of Slughorn's club was fun, but the frequent parties had made her realise that she always looked quite the same. She only owned three pair of earrings and one ring that had been her mother's and grandmother's. Ginny didn't really own any jewellery, and borrowing something from Parvati or Lavender didn't appeal to her, as their choice of accessories was far too flamboyant for Hermione's taste.

"You're blessed with great weather today," mentioned Ginny after finishing her blueberry porridge. "It's actually sunny."

"Well then, I'll bring these up to my dorm," said Hermione, gesturing to the presents in front of her. "and then we should go outside. I've already finished my homework; I just have to study a bit for the Advanced Arithmancy test on Monday."

Ginny nodded in approval. "I have to finish my History of Magic essay, but I can do that outside. Are you coming too, Luna?"

The Ravenclaw girl nodded. "Sure, I'll just have to get my books for Alchemy first, but I'll meet you outside." She said goodbye to Dean and skipped out of the Great Hall, oblivious to the fact that the majority of the younger students she passed watched her in amusement.

Hermione grabbed a buttered bagel and collected her presents. After a trip through the castle she entered her common room and brought her things up to her dorm. When she walked out through the portrait hole again, Ginny, who had already hurried up to the Gryffindor Tower, was waiting in the corridor, petting Crookshanks.

"Look, Hermione, even Crooks remembered it's your birthday!" she announced with amusement.

Crookshanks walked up to her with a large dead rat between his jaws. Hermione reached for its tail and took the rat from her ginger-coloured cat, smiling fondly. "Clever Crookshanks, well done!" she said, lovingly scratching the cat behind his ears. After she let the cat back into the Head's Tower, she and Ginny made their way down to the ground floor, keeping the dangling dead rat at arm's length, grateful that she had already finished her bagel. Once outside, she tossed the rat into the bushes and wiped her hand off on her jeans. She shook her head. _The perks of having a cat..._

Luna had already settled down underneath the largest tree near the Black Lake. It was indeed sunny, like Ginny had mentioned before, and the temperature was still rather pleasant, even though leaves were already starting to colour. They sat down next to Luna and started doing their homework while chatting about nothing and everything.

"Slytherin's holding their Quidditch tryouts today," said Ginny after a while, staring at something behind Hermione with narrowed eyes. She turned around and saw large numbers of people dressed in green walk in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. Some were carrying a broom, but many weren't.

"I heard that they hosted a party in the dungeons yesterday," mentioned Luna absent-mindedly. "Margaret was on patrol duty last night and she complained about loud music. Apparently Professor Slughorn stormed into the common room at three in the morning, personally sending everyone off to bed."

Ginny snorted. "Typically Slytherin, throwing a party the night before they're hosting Quidditch tryouts. I wonder how many of those people have hangovers."

Hermione found herself staring at the back of Malfoy's blonde head. The party explained why he was out until after curfew last night, and why he made such a grumpy expression when he entered the common room. Maybe he had been more intoxicated than she had noticed; it would explain his sudden friendliness.

"Malfoy came back late last night, way past his curfew," said Hermione to her friends. "It was little before midnight, and I received my first birthday mail. When he learned it was my birthday, he wished me a happy one, and he actually sounded friendly."

Her friends looked at her with surprised expressions. "Definitely drunk," remarked Ginny after a moment, sounding rather baffled. "Or maybe Slytherins don't stop at alcohol, and maybe he had some Silverweed mushrooms."

Luna laughed and Hermione shook her head dismissively, smiling. "As strange as it was, Malfoy doesn't strike me as the kind of person who consumes hallucinogens."

"It was probably just a Wrackspurt that made his brain go fuzzy and stopped him from thinking clearly. It happens to the best of us," said Luna airily, browsing through the pages of her book, _Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science _by Argo Pyrites, with a small frown on her faint brows.

Ginny giggled and exchanged an amused glance with Hermione, before they silently proceeded to do their homework. After about half an hour, Ginny let herself fall backwards onto the grass and yawned.

"I need some entertainment," she sighed. "Why don't we check out the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts for a while?"

Hermione reluctantly followed her two friends to the Quidditch stadium and sat down in the stands. On the front row sat a group of rather angry-looking Slytherin girls dressed in Quidditch robes. Her observation was voiced by Luna.

"They don't look like they've made the team."

Ginny shorted. "Of course they didn't. Slytherin has never let girls on the team before, that wasn't likely to change now. Malfoy's not exactly one to break tradition."

"It is rather old-fashioned," commented Hermione thoughtfully. "I wonder why they're still holding on to such an outdated tradition. They can't deny that there are a lot of really skilled female players out there."

"You know how Slytherin is dominated by old pure-blooded families," shrugged Ginny. "They feel very strongly about gender-roles. That's why most old pure-blooded families still have this aristocratic air about them. They are quite literally holding on to the past. Women are supposed to be elegant and feminine, preferably at home, not in the air on a broomstick." She motioned to the angry-looking girls on the front row. "They're probably not raised in an old pure-blooded family, or else they would have known, and they would have at least pretended to gracefully accept that their place is on the sidelines."

"I'm glad your family is different," smiled Hermione.

"In a way we're not," said Ginny seriously, surprising her. "There is a reason why I was never allowed to play Quidditch with my brothers, even after Bill moved out and there were only five boys left, making the teams uneven. They would rather take turns than let me play. I'm a girl, and I wasn't _supposed_ to play. I could have gotten _hurt_." She wrinkled her nose. "It's also one of the reasons Mum doesn't have a job. That's just how it's supposed to be. The men work, the women stay at home to take care of the children and the house."

"I... I never thought of it like that," muttered Hermione, quite taken aback. "Your family seems so open-minded and accepting."

"Oh, they are," assured Ginny her quickly with a smile. "It's not like my Dad forced my Mum to stay at home or something, she just felt that it was the right thing to do. But we are influenced by tradition too, even though we're way more tolerant than other pure-blooded families. We've always been the odd ones."

A sudden movement on the Quidditch field distracted them. The third round of tryouts for the Keeper position had started, and a group of three Chasers were throwing the Quaffle around at such a rapid pace that it seemed as though they had been playing together for years. The badly prepared Keeper didn't stand a chance: he didn't stop a single goal.

Malfoy was standing on the sideline of the pitch with his arms folded, a pleased smirk on his face. For the first time since they were back at school, Hermione thought he looked as though he was completely in his element again. He didn't have to please anyone here; today people had to please him instead. And this Keeper had done a poor job.

"Oh no," moaned Ginny, sounding disappointed. "Looks like Zabini's on the team again. He's such a foul player; he has elbowed me so many times during the game two years ago that I had too many bruises to count."

"Aren't the other two in your year?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah," nodded Ginny. "Niles Hanley and Michael Robinson. They're alright."

The fourth round started. This Keeper did a much better job, stopping three out of five goals. When the fifth round was announced, a lanky boy mounted his broom. He was surprisingly good, stopping every single goal. Malfoy was nodding in appreciation, shaking the boy's hand when he landed.

"He's good," remarked the Ravenclaw girl who was sitting next to Luna.

"Oh, hey Orla, I didn't see you there," said Ginny, greeting the girl. Orla Quirke was a fifth year prefect and one of the Chasers on the Ravenclaw team. Even though she was a year below them, she was often seen with Ginny and Luna.

"Did you hear? Michael's on the team as of this morning," announced the petite Ravenclaw girl with twinkling eyes, referring to Ginny's ex-boyfriend Michael Corner.

Ginny leaned forward with interest, a small smirk on her lips. "Really? What position? Please tell me he's Keeper."

"He's Keeper," smiled Orla.

"_No way!"_

"Yes, really!"

Hermione laughed as her friend did a little victory dance in her seat. Michael had been a really bad loser when Gryffindor had beaten Ravenclaw during a Quidditch match, and when Ginny had broken up with him because of his childish behaviour, he had ran off to Cho Chang instead, and started dating her shortly after. Ginny could no longer stand him since.

"When will you be holding your tryouts?" she asked.

"Next week. I wanted to hold them today as well, but both Ravenclaw and Slytherin had reserved the field, so I talked to Brendon Halkirk this morning, and he said that I could have the field first next week. All I have to do is find a Keeper and a Seeker that's adequate enough to replace Harry, so that shouldn't take me all morning, and then Hufflepuff has their tryouts after us."

"You shouldn't compare them to Harry," warned Hermione. "We all know he's an exceptional Seeker, but you have to judge the new ones in their own right."

"I know," grumbled Ginny.

"So you're keeping Jimmy and Ritchie as Beaters and Demelza as Chaser?"

The redhead nodded. "Yeah, and I asked Dean as well, and he wants to join the team too. He was a great substitute the last time; he deserves a full spot this year."

The Slytherins all started moving. The tryouts were over, and everyone was leaving the stadium. Hermione and Ginny followed Luna and Orla to the exit, heading back to their spot underneath the tree, enjoying the sun while they still could.

X

When Hermione headed back to the Head's Tower after dinner that evening, she was very excited to start reading the book she had received from Viktor and to try on the clothes she had received from Ginny and her parents. She would write thank-you-notes tomorrow. The portrait slid to the left, and Hermione entered the common room.

Malfoy was lying on the couch, still in his Quidditch robes, fast asleep. Crookshanks was lying on his stomach, also fast asleep. She stared at them for a little while, unable to understand how someone as arrogant and spiteful as Draco Malfoy could look so serene and kind when he was asleep. When those cold, grey eyes of his didn't hatefully glare around, when he didn't have his eyebrows raised in an arrogant manner, or his lip curled in its usual sneer, he looked like a really friendly guy.

It was too bad, really, that she knew him better than that.

He started moving. Afraid that he would open his eyes and catch her staring at him, Hermione quickly took off to her dormitory.

X

After having browsed through her new treasure for a while, she craved some hot chocolate, so she made her way down to the common room again. Malfoy had woken up in the meantime and was reading a book, but he was still lying in the same position, as Crookshanks was still lying on his stomach. When he heard her enter the common room, he put his book aside.

"Granger, come get your fat cat away from me," he grumbled.

Hermione walked in his direction, smiling a little. "Why didn't you just push him off you?" she asked as she lifted Crookshanks from his stomach.

Malfoy swung his legs from the couch and sat up. "Don't you think I've tried? The fat beast just grasped my robes with his claws and refused to move," he said, glaring up at her. He stood up and examined the front of his robes. "Great, the first day I'm wearing these and the Weasley cat decided it was time to moult."

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione put Crookshanks down on the armchair. She had long ago lost hope that Malfoy would ever grow out of his whiney attitude, but it was truly tiring to hear him confirm it.

"Well then, next time you should nap upstairs, where this _beast_ can't reach you," she told him, mimicking his tone.

"I was exhausted; I collapsed on the first comfortable spot I came across."

Hermione couldn't contain a snort. Not only would he forever be a whiner, he would be a dramatic one. She walked toward the kitchenette, opened a cupboard and took out a mug. She filled it with water, took out her wand and muttered a spell that Mrs Weasley had once taught her. A second later, the smell of hot chocolate fumed from the mug, and Hermione smiled. She turned around and almost walked into Malfoy, who was standing right behind her.

"How did you do that?" he asked in a demanding tone.

"I used a spell," she shot back, slightly startled. "You could have asked nicely."

"I could have," grumbled Malfoy. "Where did you learn that?"

She glared up at him. "Mrs Weasley taught me. Why? Didn't your mother ever teach you any food-related charms?"

"_My mother?"_ He let out a mocking laugh. "You do know that my mother grew up as a member of The _Noble_ and Most _Ancient_ House of Black? You don't honestly believe that anyone save the house-elves knew such spells?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I suppose not. The spell is _Calidum Scelerisque._"

She watched as Malfoy grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filling it with water like she had earlier. He took out his wand and muttered the spell, succeeding on the first try. Smiling smugly, he took his hot chocolate back to the couch and sat down, taking his book again.

"Malfoy?"

He looked up as he took a sip.

"I wanted to thank you."

His eyes darkened. "For what?"

"Wishing me a happy birthday. Being civil to me today."

He looked away from her, sipping from his hot chocolate again. "Don't mention it."

Hermione walked up to him and sat down in the armchair across from him. She hesitated, but after a few moments she decided to give in to her curiosity. "Why did you wish me a happy birthday, anyway?"

"Damn it, Granger," he snapped, putting his mug down on the table with a loud smack, spilling some hot chocolate. "Why can't you just take what you get and be done with it? Why do you have to analyse every little thing I do to find some hidden meaning behind it?"

"Because I don't get you!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "One minute you're nice and the other minute you're a foul git! There is no in-between! We've only been back for two weeks and we still have an _entire year_ to go. How do you propose we continue? Neither of us will hold on like this."

"I've already made a proposition, but you didn't seem really cooperative. That's not my fault."

"It actually is. You would behave and act civil. You haven't really been able to pull that off."

"A two edged blade cuts both ways, Granger," spat Malfoy. "I've told you repeatedly to stop prying into my motives, but you stubbornly continue to do so, even though you _know_ I don't appreciate it. I've _asked_ you to _stop_, yet you refused to listen, but when I snap because you _continue_ to be an insufferable, inconsiderate wench, _I'm_ the bad guy?"

Hermione blinked at him, a little taken aback by his anger. She opened her mouth to reply, but he silenced her with a single glare, clearly indicating that he wasn't finished just yet.

"A person can't just change overnight, as you bloody well know. I've tried very hard to tolerate you and to be civil, but when I ask for a little consideration in return, a little less prying into my life; you simply ignore me and proceed to do as you please. Just because the whole Wizarding World views you as some kind of heroic war goddess because you aided in ridding the world of its greatest force of evil doesn't mean I do too."

She let out some air. "Okay, you're right, I should have been a bit more considerate," she admitted quietly. "And I do appreciate that you've shown to put in _some_ effort to be more civil. I just... I find it hard to keep up with your mood swings, and because we're spending so much time together this year, I just want to have some understanding of why you're behaving the way you do."

"You want to know why I'm attempting to be civil? Because that's what you and McGonagall expect from me. You want to know why I don't quite succeed at that? Because I don't like you and because you annoy me." He cleaned the table with a wave of his wand and took the mug as he stood up. "And that's the _end_ of it."

He walked around the couch to the stairs leading up to his dorm. Suddenly he stopped, staring down in disgust.

"That bloody beast of yours has regurgitated something. _Please_ get rid of it. Not all of us fancy the feeling of bones between our toes," he grumbled, sarcastically emphasizing the _please._

Once Malfoy had made his way up to his dorm, Hermione sighed and rose from the chair, whipping out her wand to Vanish what seemed to be a vole skeleton. She turned around to Crookshanks, who was still lying curled up on the armchair.

"Please, Crooks, next time, _please_ sneak up to his dorm and regurgitate it on his bed," she said sourly, addressing her sleeping cat.

She took her mug and made her way upstairs. Putting her drink down on her desk, Hermione browsed through the letters she had received today with a small smile. Her birthday had been great, but somehow, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. It was as though something was missing, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Hermione finished her hot chocolate, changed into her pyjamas and crawled into bed with _The Founders of Hogwarts, A Complete And Uncensored Biography._ After reading the first couple of pages, she started to feel rather sleepy. It wasn't until she had almost fallen asleep that she realised why her day didn't feel complete.

_She hadn't heard a single word from Ron._

Not even attempting to keep the tears from falling, Hermione cried herself to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Sorry if the Bulgarian bits are incorrect, I'll admit that I used Google Translate. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!


	12. Chapter twelve

A/N: This is the longest chapter so far! Little over 5,600 words! Woohoo. I hope you'll like it as much as I do.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter twelve**_

_**Monday, 5 October 1998**_

September had transitioned into October almost unnoticed as most students were simply too busy with school. The weather gradually became less and less enjoyable, and trees were turning deeper shades of yellow, orange and red. The seventh-years received more homework every week, and the Professors continued to mercilessly remind them of their exams and the high expectations they would have to live up to in April, which was said to approach quicker than they would expect. Draco was not impressed with this threat, though he sincerely hoped they were right. He couldn't wait to get out of this place for good.

Even though Zabini had always complained about Slughorn's Slug Club parties on end, he had been utterly insulted when the first dinner party was hosted and he hadn't gotten an invite. Draco suspected that, even though the parties during their sixth year had been rather dull, and the company had been questionable, Zabini had always enjoyed the fact that he had been one of the few chosen students. That assumption was quite compatible with his superior attitude; he enjoyed special attention, no matter how little it impressed him. All that mattered was that he could somehow use it to his own advantage.

But Slughorn clearly hadn't yet forgiven him for his behaviour during that regrettable Potions class weeks ago, and Zabini had been bitter about it for days now, and his mood had only worsened when Ginny Weasley had smugly rubbed _her_ invite in his face. The little wench wasn't only a pain to Zabini; she annoyed Draco to no end as well.

The first Quidditch match of the year was quickly approaching, but somehow, whenever Draco wanted to schedule training, the Gryffindor team had reserved the field. Weasley refused to bend from her schedule and she simply refused to strike a compromise.

He didn't like admitting it, but the Gryffindor Quidditch team was stronger than he had ever expected, now that Potter was gone. Draco hadn't expected them to find a Seeker that was able to perform well enough to live up to the expectations of the position, but according to Niles Hanley, who had been watching the Gryffindor tryouts, the petite girl that had gotten the spot deserved it, fair and square, which had only doubled the pressure Draco was feeling. Slytherin could _not_ lose from Gryffindor this year. That would not only mean losing against a _female_ Captain, but also losing against a _female_ Seeker. And losing against Potter had been bad enough.

Slytherin _had_ to win. His Chasers were simply fantastic, his Keeper continued to stop every single goal during trainings, and his Beaters were vicious and unscrupulous. On top of that, he himself was a skilled Seeker, and now that the _legendary_ Potter was no longer here, Draco felt that it was his time to shine.

He would _not_ let Gryffindor win.

"Weasley!" he called through the Entrance Hall.

The redhead, who stood amongst a group of fellow sixth-year students, turned around slowly with her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "What?"

Draco reluctantly walked up to her. "We need to talk."

"Do we?" she asked innocently.

"We do," he answered with a growl. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into a study section near the Charms classroom, ignoring her protests. Once inside, Weasley yanked her arm out of his grip, glaring up at him with a blazing look in her eyes.

"Who in _Merlin's_ name do you think you are?" she snarled. "You could have just _asked_ me to come with you!" She folded her arms and impatiently tapped her foot on the ground as she muttered dark nothings under her breath, continuing to glare up at him.

"Sit down," said Draco grumpily.

"_Thanks_, but no thanks" she said sarcastically. "I'd much rather keep standing."

Draco sighed, already tired of the Gryffindor's behaviour. "I would _like_ to make a deal with you regarding the Quidditch field."

"This again?" exclaimed Weasley in annoyance. "I've already told you that I'm sticking to my schedule."

"And I've already told _you_ that it would be _nice_ of you to give others a chance to practice as well!" spat Draco back.

She looked up at him, seeming rather unimpressed. "Then you should have booked the field sooner. First come, first served, Malfoy, you'll have to accept the leftovers this time," she said smugly. "Now, if you could _excuse_ me, I actually have a class to attend to." With one last glare, she tossed her red mane over her shoulder and moved past him.

He curled his lip in disgust and followed her out the study section, but instead of going left, like she had, he turned right and marched down the corridor, silently cursing the girl. He would show her not to mess with him. When he reached Madam Hooch's office, he took a deep breath, composing himself. He then knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Draco pushed the door open and moved inside. "Good morning, Madam Hooch," he said politely, looking down at the grey-haired witch, who was sitting behind a large wooden desk. She looked up from her writings, staring intently up at him with her yellow hawk-like eyes.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I would like to look into the field reservations, please, if that's possible."

The witch nodded and opened a drawer, taking out a large leather-bound book, which she handed him. "You may sit over there, Mr Malfoy," she said, motioning her head in the direction of a table in the corner.

"Thank you, Madam."

Draco took the book and seated himself at the table. He opened the book, browsing through the pages until he found the page he was looking for. October 1998. He scanned the page with an angry frown. Weasley had booked the field every single morning before breakfast for the coming two weeks. He sighed. He would have to convince his team to practice in the evenings and skip dinner, considering he had to be back in the Head's Tower immediately afterwards. It wouldn't help to go talk to McGonagall; she was quite a Quidditch fanatic and he knew she was rather biased. She would love for Gryffindor to win the Cup. Draco scribbled down his signature to book the field every morning for the last two weeks of October, and after a split second of hesitation, he included the first two weeks of November which led up directly to the match. That would teach that Weasley wench. Luckily he had logic on his side, because he knew he could get in trouble for this. But if Gryffindor wanted to train, it would have to be in the evenings. Because they could. And he couldn't.

_First come, first served, right, Weasley? Enjoy the leftovers._

He snapped the book shut, stood up and returned the book to Madam Hooch, thanked her for her time and left the office. Checking his wristwatch, he groaned, and reluctantly made his way to Muggle Studies.

X

_**Thursday, 8 October 1998**_

"Now, please partner up with someone other than your previous partner," announced Slughorn with a lazy wave of his hand as he returned to the front of the class.

The four Ravenclaws were quick to once again partner up amongst each other, and Macmillan hesitantly moved in Nott's direction, clearly hoping that his impression of the guy had been correct, and that he was, in fact, not too bad to be around.

Draco turned around and his eyes met Greengrass', who nodded with relief and quickly made her way over at his table. She was a smart girl, which was proven by the fact that she was one of the very few people to be allowed to continue Potions. He was glad that Pansy had chosen _her_ as her best friend and not Tracey Davis, because Greengrass was the only Slytherin girl, other than Pansy, of course, that he genuinely liked. She wasn't as laid-back as he and Pansy were, and sometimes she spoiled their fun by being too serious, but at least she didn't drive him crazy with pointless conversations all day long. If she didn't really have anything to say, she simply didn't say anything, and it was one of the things he really appreciated about her.

"Now, I'd like to remind you that this is one of the most difficult and complicated potions to make, and I urge you to be serious about it," said the Potions Master sternly, addressing his class. "Brewing the Polyjuice Potion correctly is not limited to class hours. You may have to come in between classes to add ingredients or stir the potion into correct directions. If you are unable to understand just how important it is what we're doing here, I suggest you leave now. I shall _not_ tolerate another incident like a few weeks ago. The Auror department is in desperate need for these batches."

With that, Slughorn revealed the basic instructions on the blackboard. "Independent of its actual brewing process, the Polyjuice Potion requires a good deal of preparation prior to the making. During this time, you are to research the potion and write an essay about the effects, side effects and characteristics of the potion, as well as the significance of each ingredient. All clear? Good, let's get started, you lot."

The Potions Master strutted through the classroom and then returned to his desk, sitting down, as the students moved to the ingredient cabinet to prepare their potion.

"Where the hell is Granger?" asked Greengrass, frowning as she scanned the classroom. "Is she so miserable that she's skipping classes now?"

"She's at McGonagall's," answered Draco curtly. "To finish up taking care of that Whomping Willow incident from this morning."

Earlier that day, three first-year Hufflepuffs had been playing around with the notorious tree, until eventually one of them wasn't quick enough to get away from its branches. The Willow had grabbed him and swung him around for a good five minutes before letting go of him, after which the boy had disappeared over the trees, into the Forbidden Forest. The seventh-years were just making their way back from the Greenhouses when it happened, and Granger had hurried after the boy with the assistance of Finnigan and Thomas, quickly retrieving the boy. She had taken him to the Hospital Wing, but when they discovered that he had been bitten by a Blood-Sucking Bugbear, Madam Pomfrey had sent him to St. Mungo's, where he would be checked for infections. A transfer like that required quite the paperwork.

Greengrass' observation was accurate. Granger had been making a rather miserable impression lately. Ever since her birthday, or at least, that's when Draco had started noticing, she was really quiet. She had stopped asking him questions about everything and anything, something Draco didn't mind at all. Much to his relief, she had returned to communicating strictly about Head's business.

"This bloody thing is going to take a _month_ to complete," commented Greengrass in annoyance, quickly scanning the lines of instructions. "And the lacewing flies must be stewed for twenty-one days _prior_ to the brewing, and we also have to take the type of cauldron into consideration," she huffed before stepping back to examine the cauldron. "What kind of cauldron is this?" she asked, looking up at Draco, as it was his.

"It's a copper cauldron, I don't know how much more specific you want me to be?" drawled Draco with a little amusement. "Must I tell you how _expensive_ it was, hmm?"

"Well, Malfoy, I hate to break it to you, but if it didn't cost you at _least_ twenty Galleons, I'm afraid this potion is going to be an _utter_ failure," said Greengrass dramatically.

They sniggered quietly and Draco tossed a handful of the little green flies into the cauldron. "So we can start brewing at the end of this month, and then it will take us another month?" he asked with a frown, already dreading working on this potion.

Greengrass grimaced. "Yeah, the flies will be ready on the 29th, so until then..." She sighed and sat down, taking a roll of parchment from her bag. Draco adjusted the temperature of the flames underneath the cauldron and sat down next to her, copying her moves. After about half an hour of making notes, he heard someone say his name. When he looked up he saw Granger standing in front of Slughorn's desk, speaking quietly.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, Professor," she apologised quietly. "I was at the Headmistress' office to assist her with some paperwork regarding the hospital transfer of little Martin Beccles."

"Ah, yes," nodded Slughorn. "Mr Malfoy had already notified me of the reason for your absence. The poor boy, will he be alright?"

"We don't know, sir, his injuries didn't seem severe, but there's a slight possibility he's infected with Scrofungulus because of the bite. Madam Pomfrey said that it's not likely, but she didn't want to take risks because he's still quite young, and if he's infected it will affect him rather badly. Either way, he will return before the end of the weekend."

"Good, good. Now, Ms Granger, as you can see, we are unevenly divided so I must ask you to join one of the existing pairs, so why don't you go join Ms Greengrass and Mr Malfoy in the back?"

"Um, Professor, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…" stammered Granger lamely, shooting glances at the two Ravenclaw girls in the front with the obvious desire to join them instead, but Slughorn carelessly waved away her concerns.

"Nonsense, Ms Granger, I'm sure you three will do just fine. Now, off you go, make me proud."

Draco groaned and nudged Greengrass, who, in response, spilled ink on her parchment and glared up at him. "What?"

"Careful of the questions you ask next time. Granger's back, and she's joining us," he hissed at her.

"Again?" replied Greengrass harshly, a little louder than she had intended. Her head snapped up at Granger, who had been moving in their direction. She abruptly held her step and stared at the blonde girl with an offended glare.

"Now, Ms Greengrass, there's no need for such an attitude," scolded Slughorn, who had quickly noticed the way the Slytherin girl was looking at Granger. "You have to thank Ms Granger here for your sufficient grade for the Blood-Replenishing Potion!" he continued, sounding a little aghast.

Greengrass turned a little pink, but she kept her expression composed. "Yes, of course. My apologies, sir, but since you specifically mentioned to choose a _different_ partner…"

"But Ms Granger was not officially your partner last time," interjected the Potions Master, sounding a little more relieved than he had just yet. "Now, I expect no more trouble. Please get back to your research, alright?"

The Head Girl arrived at their table, and Draco sighed. He had been so happy with their current way of communication, or rather, their _lack_ thereof, and now they had been partnered up for yet another time-consuming project. Granger had raised an eyebrow and was shooting angry glances at Greengrass, obviously insulted by her unsubtle display of displeasure.

"Don't give me that look, Granger," said Greengrass softly as she glanced back after a moment. "I know you're as… _happy_ with this as I am."

"My disappointment toward this partnership wasn't directed at you, Greengrass, for I hardly know you enough to dislike you," answered Granger stiffly. "I merely believe that the current partnership I have with Malfoy is rather enough for a lifetime, as I'm sure he'll agree with me."

"Yes, Granger, for once I'm not afraid to publicly announce that I agree with you," drawled Draco with another sigh.

"Well, I hope I can _trust_ _you_," emphasised Greengrass sarcastically, sounding a little disgusted. "to keep your personal displeasure from ruining this potion, which is complicated enough as it is without this _ridiculous_ assigned partnership," she grumbled.

"I have successfully brewed the Polyjuice Potion before," stated Granger, a hint of a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I'm sure I'll be able to do it again, despite this, um, _ridiculous_ partnership," she mimicked Greengrass' tone.

Draco stared at her with narrowed eyes. Why did she sound so _proud?_ It wasn't like it came as a surprise to them that she had been able to do something as difficult as this before. After all, she was know-it-all Granger, and he and everyone else had long ago been forced to accept that there was no way that they could ever beat her, academically.

Granger sat down on the other side of Greengrass and took out a roll of parchment as well. Shooting quick displeased glances at each other, the three students sighed as one, ready to just get this over with.

X

"…and you _really_ have to stop being so pathetic!"

"_Pathetic? Me?_ I'm sorry, but _I'm_ not the one who has been crying for over a sodding _week_ now because I didn't get some stupid party invite from an old fat walrus. Grow the hell up."

"You've got some nerve talking to me like that. Is this how you thank someone who has been keeping an eye on you for weeks now to make sure you don't get hurt? Honestly, your mother would be ashamed if she saw your ungrateful attitude. And _you_ call yourself a proper pureblood witch."

"Oh my, you're so tough, insulting me from the other side of the table. Do you want me to come over there to smack that smug little smile off your face?"

"Pansy!" hissed Greengrass nervously when her friend continued to raise her voice, eyeing the staff table.

"Smack me, hmm? What are you, some lowly Muggle? You disgust me."

"Can you two _please _just shut the hell up for _two_ minutes?" groaned Draco, rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face, utterly tired of the fighting between his two classmates, which had already been going on all day.

Nott sat silently beside the group of the four, reading the Evening Prophet, not paying attention to Pansy and Zabini's arguing. Draco was almost jealous of him for being able to shut off his hearing so that he could read without being disturbed.

The two finally stopped arguing and silently finished their dinner, hatefully glaring at each other every now and then.

Even though it had happened several weeks ago, Pansy was still behaving rather cautiously, acting suspicious about everyone. Zabini was getting tired of her behaviour, and he hadn't been quiet about it. He had bluntly told her that she wasn't fun to be around anymore because she was nothing but a nervous mess these days, a statement that had greatly offended Pansy.

"Are you done with the Sports section?" grumbled Draco, addressing Nott. His classmate nodded and handed him the requested pages without so much as looking up from the article he was reading. Draco took the page and started reading the League Cup reports, shaking his head as he read that the Tutshill Tornados were once again mercilessly defeated by the Ballycastle Bats.

"What would you know about proper pureblood witches anyway," hissed Pansy softly at Zabini, a hostile edge to her voice. "You wouldn't recognize one even if she danced naked in front of you. You haven't exactly seen many in your life, have you? It's not like your mother can refer to herself as one, being the promiscuous wench she is."

Everyone close to Pansy who had been able to hear her vocal attack gasped in abhorrence. Slytherin's weren't generally known as friendly people, and sarcasm and light insults were considered their mother tongue, but if there was one thing that was considered to cross all lines and break every unwritten rule, it was attacking someone's family.

"_PANSY!" _shrieked Greengrass, looking absolutely mortified.

Zabini stared at her with wide eyes, his entire body tensed with cold fury. "How _dare_ you," he hissed back softly after a moment of seeming absolutely at a loss for words. His voice sounded awfully calm, and everyone who knew Zabini at all knew that was a dangerous sign.

Draco and Nott had both put down their newspapers the second Pansy had started talking again, and Draco was eyeing her with an amount of worry he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew Zabini would never strike a woman, but she had just come awfully close to being an exception, and he wasn't sure whether she was aware of that.

He stood up and pulled her up from the bench as well, forcing her to come with him. Once they reached the Entrance Hall he pushed her into the Chamber of Reception and closed the door.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you," he hissed angrily at her the second he turned to face her.

Pansy stared up at him, and the look in her eyes quickly changed from angry determination to remorse. "I've gone too far, haven't I?" she whispered. "Oh Merlin…"

"I knew you could be foul, but what _were_ you thinking? Whatever he's done, he surely has not deserved _that."_

"I _wasn't_ thinking, Draco," exclaimed Pansy in desperation. "I just… I've been feeling so awfully weak lately, and I hate it, it's killing me! And while he was supportive at first, he's just been mocking me for being a wimp the past few days, and…"

For a second, Draco thought she was going to cry, and the thought scared him. He had only ever seen her cry tears of anger, and he wasn't ready to witness another category of tears from her now. But she just drew in a shaky breath, and her eyes remained dry.

"He just hurt me, okay? And normally I would have handled that just fine, you know me, I don't let myself get hurt easily. But I have just been feeling really off lately… And I guess I wasn't myself in there."

"I know, I know," said Draco softly, pulling her closer. "Just… please apologize. You may be feeling weak, but so does he, for his own stupid reasons. I won't be able to do anything to help you if he decides to plan your demise tonight, and quite honestly, if I were him and you said that to me, I would probably already have a plan ready to get away with your murder."

"Your mother is wonderful," she murmured against his shoulder. "I would never insult her like that."

"Good."

Pansy pulled away from him and gave him a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Draco. Now, let's go, before McGonagall decides that comforting your friends little after curfew is a legitimate reason to expel you."

He signed. "I'm sure she already has."

X

When Granger arrived back in the common room around 9:00 p.m., Draco had spent an hour and a half feverishly browsing back and forth through the pages to find any side effects of the Polyjuice Potion, but he had been unable to find any. Even though he didn't like admitting it, he had reached a point of desperation, and while grudgingly, he had admitted to himself that he needed help.

"Granger, I would like to request your assistance," he grumbled, inwardly groaning.

She stopped moving and glanced suspiciously at him, as though she wasn't sure of his intentions. "With what?" she asked.

"This sodding potion," answered Draco, gesturing to the book in front of him. "I can't find a thing about side effects."

Walking up to the study table, she peeked at the cover of his book and nodded. "You're not going to find any in there," she commented as she lifted her book bag to put it down on the table. Opening the clasps, Granger searched through her bag and took out _Moste Potente Potions_ by Phineas Bourne, handing it to him.

Draco took the book with a nod and opened it on the pages Granger had bookmarked and immediately found what he was looking for. "Thanks," he muttered uncomfortably. "Where did you find this book?"

"Restricted section," she shrugged as she sat down across from him, taking her own Potions essay from her bag. She browsed through her notes and started writing,

He couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor girl on the other side of the table, wondering about her former experience with the Polyjuice Potion. He had expected her to be familiar with it, and he suspected that she had used the potion, undoubtedly on several occasions, during the Second Wizarding War. He had, after all, heard about the day the Dark Lord had planned to capture Potter, an event more commonly known as the Battle of the Seven Potters. As one of his best friends, she had most probably been one of those seven people.

There had been something in the way she had smiled during class that had left Draco wondering. He knew that she was probably pleased with her capabilities, but the smug smile had seemed foreign on her face. He knew her as someone who was rather modest, and she definitely wasn't one to boast about her achievements, academically or otherwise.

It could only mean that she had brewed the Polyjuice Potion under extraordinary circumstances. Only then she would allow herself to be really proud of her work. Suddenly, an incident from years ago crossed his mind, and Draco couldn't help but smirk.

"So, Granger," he started slowly. "You've already brewed this potion before. That's what you said earlier, right?"

"Yes, why?" answered Granger absent-mindedly, seemingly oblivious to his intentions, as she proceeded to copy her notes.

"No reason," said Draco innocently. "I just couldn't help but wonder whether it might have had something to do with the fact that you spent several weeks in the hospital wing during our second year."

Much to his delight, Granger's right hand froze mid-sentence and she slowly looked up at him, an unreadable expression on her face. After a short moment of hesitation, she narrowed her eyes. "I was petrified during our second year, Malfoy, as I'm sure you remember quite well. Of course I was in the hospital wing for weeks on end."

"No, no, no," he smirked. "I meant _before_ the winter holidays. I remember all too well that you were petrified, it's been up for quite a debate how you could pass the year while you were in the hospital wing for most of the year."

She took her time replying. "I never realised you were so observant, Malfoy," she commented with a hint of sarcasm. "It's nice to know I was missed."

"Funny, Granger, really witty. I wonder why you're so determined to tip-toe around the subject. It's almost as though you've got something to _hide."_

"I wonder too sometimes, Malfoy," countered Granger sharply. "Why is it that you're allowed to ask questions whereas when I do it, I'm being accused of prying?"

"Because our intentions are different," Draco answered simply. "I'm not trying to be noble here."

She raised her eyebrows. "Right. And I assume you believe that I am? I'm not King Arthur, you know."

"You could have fooled me, considering the beard."

He smirked when her face turned red at the memory. Even though he had really enjoyed his few weeks of peace and quiet, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. Even though Granger was skilled at ignoring him most of the time, when they were alone and he was targeting her, her composure cracked easily.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore," she said softly, staring at him with a certain determination he didn't quite understand. "It's rather silly, looking back on it, and I can't believe I have actually wasted my time on it, but if you really want to know, the answer is yes. I have brewed Polyjuice Potion during our second year. I'm assuming your next question is why?"

Draco blinked in surprise, but quickly managed to control his expression again. "I don't suppose it will hurt me to admit that I am, in fact, a little curious," he drawled, putting on a bored tone.

"We thought that you might be the Heir of Slytherin."

"_What?!"_

Of all the things he might have expected, this had not been on the list. Draco stared at the girl across the table, unable to keep up his act of disinterest any longer. He was baffled, and for some odd reason, he felt strangely flattered.

"I know it's ridiculous," continued Granger lightly, frowning slightly. "But I guess it made sense at the time. After all, your entire family had been in Slytherin and we hadn't come across anyone who was more open about their distaste of Muggleborns…"

"But you claimed you had _successfully_ brewed the Polyjuice Potion. As flattering as this confession is, Granger, and really, I'm touched," he said with evident sarcasm. "it doesn't explain in the least why you ended up in the hospital wing for over a month."

"Your perception of the matter simply won't cease to surprise me," said Granger dryly. "But like I said, the potion was brewed successfully. It's awfully humiliating, really, but I had mistakenly used a cat's hair instead of a human hair. As you may know, and I hope you do, you cannot use the Polyjuice Potion to transform into an animal or half-breed. So my attempt turned out disastrous, and I assumed the form of a humanoid cat for about a month."

Draco only barely resisted the urge to laugh. "So you've brewed and used a very advanced potion when you were only twelve years old—"

"Thirteen."

"—and probably broken a dozen school rules in the process. And all that, only a couple of weeks into our second school year."

Granger looked like she was unable to keep from smiling. "Harry and Ron were quite right when they said they had a bad influence on me."

"So I was right."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I was right when I said that you're not as innocent as you'd like to come across."

The Gryffindor girl sighed. "I suppose not, no."

He looked at her and couldn't help but be impressed. He would rather die than admit it to anyone – himself included – but the fact that she was able to brew such a complicated potion at such a young age and such an early stage in her magical education unnerved him a little.

"Have you used Polyjuice Potion after that?" he asked her.

"Yeah…" she answered softly, looking down at the table. "To change into your aunt."

The atmosphere changed drastically, and he was quite sure that they were able to physically feel each other's tension. Even though Draco often claimed to hate people who tip-toed around subjects, he had, in fact, been tip-toeing around this himself ever since it had happened. It had thrown his entire world upside-down, something he wasn't ready to admit. Not yet.

"So you did break into her vault," he stated matter-of-factly, trying to keep his voice steady and emotionless.

"Yeah…" said Granger again. "But not until after we escaped from your Manor. It was obvious that she was hiding something, the way she acted confirmed it."

"She tortured you… and you _continued to li_e... while being _tortured?"_

"Yeah…" she breathed as she closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down from her eye, trailing her cheek.

Draco abruptly pushed his chair back and without even bothering to collect his belongings he marched through the common room and ran up the stairs to his dormitory. Once upstairs, he tried to catch his breath. His mind screamed that this was too much for him. They had just crossed a line.

He and Granger had mastered the art of _one step forward, two steps back_. He could only be civil to her for so long before he snapped and threw them back considerably. It was something he enjoyed, because he knew it annoyed her. But this time it was different. He couldn't take this back. It was too big. And for the first time in a long time, Draco admitted to himself that he was scared. Scared that he would never be able to look at her in the same way again.

He had really done some irreversible damage.


	13. Chapter thirteen

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter thirteen**_

_**Wednesday, 14 October 1998**_

"Hermione!" called Dean through the corridor.

She tensed and slowly turned around. There was something in the way he had called out for her that made her feel nervous. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Dean hurrying in her direction, looking quite distraught. The knot in her stomach tightened.

"You have to come with me, _now_," he urged as he gently took her arm and pulled her in the direction he just came from. "It's Ginny—she just received a letter and now she's up in her dormitory. She refuses to talk to anyone, she won't see anyone, and she has already sent out a couple of Bat-Bogeys. We have no idea what's going on, and you're probably the only one in this castle who is allowed to talk to her."

Hermione stared at her classmate in worry and nodded, hurrying through the corridors after Dean. When they reached the Gryffindor Tower, Dean muttered the password and let Hermione enter first.

The Gryffindor common room was in a state of chaos, there was really no other way to describe it. Amongst the shocked students she found Ginny's dorm mates, who were standing closest to the staircase, all looking quite horrified. Thelma Holmes was keeping both hands in front of her face, and all Hermione could see were her red and puffy eyes. Pauline Yarrow was awkwardly patting her shoulder, holding her wand quite uncertainly as though she wanted to do something, but didn't know exactly what. Suddenly, Thelma let out a muffled shriek, and a large Bat-Bogey crawled from underneath her hands.

Hermione hurried towards the sixth-year girl, gently pushing the other students out of the way. Whipping out her wand, she quickly cast a general Counter-Spell on the girl.

"She's upstairs, Hermione," said Jennifer, a worried expression on her face.

"Has anyone else been hit with the Bat-Bogey Hex?" asked Hermione, raising her voice as she glanced through the common room. When no one came forward, she turned and hurried up the stairs. She knocked on the door to the sixth-year girl's dormitory.

"Ginny? It's me, Hermione. Please let me in."

It was silent for a couple of minutes, but Hermione knew better than to ask again. When Ginny was in a mood like this, the last thing to do was to push the girl. Finally, after a little while, the door opened and Hermione found herself looking into the teary face of her friend. She entered the dorm and quietly shut the door behind herself.

Ginny seemed to inwardly struggle for a short moment, but then she abruptly threw herself forward at Hermione and tightly embraced the older girl, who put her arms around her friend and gently stroked her red hair. After a minute, she slowly let go of the girl and gently pushed her in the direction of her four-poster bed.

"What happened, Ginny?" asked Hermione softly as they sat down.

The younger girl took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the tears just kept coming. She pointed at her bedside table and hid her face in her hands. Hermione gently continued to pat her friend on the back as she reached for the letter on the table.

_Ginny, dear—_

_I'm so sorry to tell you this in a letter, but George is doing even worse than last time. Your father and I have discussed his state at great length, and we're really worried that he's not going to recover on his own. We have spoken to several professionals, and last night we have decided that he's going to stay at St. Mungo's for a while, where he will receive professional grief counselling. Our support simply isn't enough for him, he's refusing to move on—which we understand, of course, but we can't allow him to linger in the past. We all have to try to stop looking back and start looking ahead, and there is absolutely no shame in admitting that we might need help with that, George most of all._

_Please don't be too upset, dear. We believe this really is what's best for him right now. We don't know how long he has to stay, but we're allowed to visit him at all times. I have informed Professor McGonagall as well, and she ensured me that you will be allowed to use her Floo network to visit St. Mungo's. _

_I'll let you know if there is any news. Take good care of yourself, sweetheart._

_Lots of love,_

_Mum and Dad_

Hermione's stomach ached from the bad news, and even more so when she noticed the dried spots of where Mrs Weasley's tears had fallen when she had written the letter. She simply couldn't imagine how heartbroken she and Mr Weasley must feel, watching day by day as their son sank deeper into a depression and not being able to take his pain away.

Hermione put the parchment back on the bedside table and pulled Ginny into a hug, letting her own tears flow freely as well. "It'll be okay, he'll get better," she whispered hoarsely, knowing the words were utterly hollow and meaningless.

"No he w-won't," protested Ginny between sobs. "How can he p-possibly get better? How could he p-possibly get over it? Th-they were always together… I can only imagine wh-what it must feel like to l-lose your twin…"

"He will get better, Ginny. He may never truly get over it, no," she admitted sadly. "But even George will have to go on with his life at some point. At some point he will realise that… that Fred wouldn't want him to waste his life."

Ginny hiccupped at the mention of her late brother's name. It was still such a difficult subject. Fred's death had left such a gaping hole in the Weasley family. On top of that, he and George were so popular; so many more people were greatly affected by his death, including herself.

"Is Th-Thelma okay?" sniffed Ginny softly after a while, shame evident in her voice.

"Don't worry about that, I fixed it. You might want to work on your temper, though," smiled Hermione through her tears. "It's as fiery as your hair colour."

Despite everything, a weak smile appeared on Ginny's lips, but as soon as she glanced at the letter on her bedside table again, the tears started flowing anew. Hermione held her, and couldn't help but think of Ron and the sadness she felt whenever she thought of him.

Weeks had passed, and she still hadn't received a single letter. As much as she understood that he was still trying to deal with his grief, it really hurt her. She was aware that he had always felt awkward when it came to dealing with emotions, his own as well as those of others, but the screaming absence of any contact was simply breaking her heart. He hadn't replied to a single letter.

She had heard from Harry that Ron had recently started working at the Auror department as well, and that he was probably really busy at the moment, but she couldn't help but think that Harry was probably busier, and somehow he always found time to respond. She supposed Ron was following in Harry's footsteps when it came to coping with grief: not allowing himself time to stop and think. Hermione really wanted to talk about it with Ginny, but she couldn't, especially not now.

Hermione just really hoped things would change soon.

X

_**Friday, 16 October 1998**_

Professor Bathsheda Babbling strode through the classroom as she fidgeted with the end of her long, grey hair, which was tied up in a long braid.

"Today we will discuss the Old Norse runic alphabets, particularly the Elder Futhark and its reduced form, the Younger Futhark. Ms Brocklehurst, could you please tell us something about the Elder Futhark?"

Hermione glanced at Mandy, who was sitting next to her, ready to raise her hand if her classmate didn't know the answer.

"It's the oldest form of runic alphabets. It was a writing system used by Germanic tribes between the 2nd to 8th centuries. After the 8th century, knowledge of how to read the Elder Futhark was lost until Professor Sophus Bugge deciphered it in 1865," said Mandy with confidence.

"Correct, 10 points to Ravenclaw," said Professor Babbling airily. "Ms Granger, could you complement this with some information on the Younger Futhark?"

Hermione smiled, happy that it was her turn now. "It's a reduced form from the Elder Futhark, counting only sixteen characters. It has been used since the 9th century up until approximately the 12th century. The reduction happened at the same time as phonetic changes led to a greater number of different phonemes in the spoken language, when Proto-Norse evolved into Old Norse. The language included distinct sounds and minimal pairs which are not separate in writing."

Professor Babbling nodded. "Indeed, indeed. 10 points to Gryffindor. Ms Li, could you tell us about the different branches?"

"The Younger Futhark is divided into long-branch Danish and short-twig Swedish and Norwegian runes, in the 10th century further expanded by the "Hälsinge Runes" or staveless runes," said Sue as she pushed her glasses further up her nose.

"Very good, another 10 points to Ravenclaw. Now, I have been granted access to the impressive archives of none other than Professor Sophus Bugge himself. His grandson, Nilvar Bugge, has allowed me to give you copies of the manuscripts his grandfather has researched many decades ago." She flicked her wand and the pile of parchment on her desk floated through the class, giving each student a copy. "You're in for a real treat; these manuscripts are very interesting to study. The translations will be due next week."

Hermione scanned through the runes, eager to start translating. Viktor had told her a lot about these manuscripts. She decided that when he would finally come around to answering her letter, she would tell him about her assignment. Next to her, Mandy and Sue were discussing their manuscripts with muffled excitement. Mandy turned her head in Hermione's direction. "I'm going to the library with Sue this afternoon, are you joining us? She reckons she knows just the books we'll be needing."

"Yes, alright," answered Hermione with a smile, curious about the books in question.

"It's nothing new for you, though," said Sue apologetically, having recognised the eager look on her classmates face. "I was referring to those books you showed me in fifth year; when we were paired up to write that essay about Dalecarlian runes, remember?"

"Oh, that's alright," she said, a little disappointed. "I'll still join; it's been quite a while since I read those books anyway."

They started working on their translations in silence, completely captivated by the fascinating manuscripts. In all the years she had been studying Ancient Runes, Hermione had seldom been as excited about manuscripts as she was now. Only the Mayan and Inca manuscripts had been more impressive.

"Ms Jones, are you alright?" asked Professor Babbling after the Hufflepuff girl sneezed for what seemed to be the twentieth time, interrupting Hermione's focus.

"I don't think so, Professor," sniffed Megan. "My head hurts and my nose just won't stop running."

"Sounds like you've caught a cold. Best you go visit the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey for a Pepper-up potion; we wouldn't want you to infect your classmates."

Megan nodded and gathered her belongings.

X

_**Monday, 19 October 1998**_

By the time it was Monday, at least half the student body as well as most of the staff had been forced to pay a visit to the hospital wing, as Hogwarts suffered from its yearly cold and flu epidemic. Professor Flitwick had patrolled the hallways whilst carrying a large polka-dotted handkerchief, and during breakfast on Sunday, Professor Sprout had literally sneezed her hat off after which she had excused herself and retreated to her quarters.

Hermione and Ginny had visited Hagrid for tea on Saturday morning, but he had been sneezing so often and with such great force that when they left only twenty minutes later, their robes were completely soggy, and they were forced to have another shower and a change of clothes.

During their visit Hermione had decided to tell Ginny and Hagrid about her concerns regarding Ron's lack of communication. Hagrid had simply told her to remain patient, and Ginny had bluntly called her brother a mole-eyed pile of dragon dung, but she had slightly comforted her friend by admitting that she hadn't received a single letter from her brother either.

Hermione had tried to use Harry and Ron's tactic and keep herself so busy that she wouldn't have time to worry. It hadn't worked. Instead, she had finished all her homework before dinner on Saturday. Watching the Gryffindor Quidditch training hadn't worked either, because every time Trev Mallory, the new Keeper, stopped the Quaffle, she thought of Ron, and how his confidence had gradually grown into a little bit of arrogance. Every time she was in the Great Hall she thought of his unbelievable lack of table manners and all their silly little fights, and every time she was in the Gryffindor Tower, she thought of his barbaric skill in Wizard's chess. Hermione was quite certain that she was losing her mind. Either that, or she was slowly changing into Lavender, who had quite an obsessive crush on Ron during their sixth year.

Ginny had offered to write her brother to stop being '_a rude arse'_, but Hermione had quickly dismissed that idea. She had quite often witnessed arguments between the two hot-tempered siblings, and it hardly ever ended well. When her friend had suggested Hermione to write another letter, she had sighed unhappily. She had already sent him four letters since she was back at Hogwarts. Another one probably wouldn't make a difference.

And then, at a quarter to ten, for the first time during her entire Hogwarts career, much to her classmates' amusement, Hermione's horror and Professor Vector's genuine surprise, Hermione's attention had to be called back to the lecture. Twice.

X

Hermione impatiently looked up at the entrance of the library for the umpteenth time. They were late. Again. She signed and proceeded writing her essay. She hated it when people failed to deliver on their promises. Greengrass had agreed to meet in the library during their free period to work on their Potions essay, but she and Malfoy were, just like the previous three times, at least 10 minutes late.

It wasn't as though she needed them for anything. The essays had to be written and handed in individually, but helping each other was encouraged, and the two Slytherin students clearly struggled with both the complicated Polyjuice Potion itself, as well as the idea of needing Hermione's help. And they really did need her. She doubted they had spent enough time in the library during their previous school years to know which books they needed to consult to discover the significance of the several ingredients of the potion.

"Sorry for being late," said Daphne Greengrass stiffly, interrupting Hermione's train of thought, as she put her books down on the table and uncomfortably sat down across from her. It was clear that she would rather be anywhere else but here, and Hermione couldn't say she really enjoyed the blonde's company either. It wasn't that she was incredibly rude, like her friend Parkinson was, but there was a certain air about her that made Hermione feel slightly uncomfortable.

Over the course of their joint seven years at Hogwarts, she had worked with the Slytherin on a small number of occasions, and Greengrass had never vocally displayed her beliefs on pure-blood supremacy. She generally accepted assigned partnerships without a fuss, though she had made it clear early on that she didn't like her, and Hermione wasn't sure whether that was a because of her Muggleborn lineage or whether it was simply the result of clashing personalities.

This time it was different, of course, because of Malfoy. Their time in the dungeons together was awfully awkward, and they hadn't even started the official brewing process yet. Greengrass was determined to get a good grade and she always sat between her and Malfoy as though she tried to keep the peace that way. Even though she didn't like Greengrass, Hermione did appreciate the effort. She wouldn't accept anything less than an Outstanding for this assignment. If she could successfully brew the Polyjuice Potion in a haunted bathroom at age thirteen, she would most certainly be able to successfully brew it again six years later, even with two Slytherin partners.

"Where is Malfoy?" asked Hermione with a sigh.

"I don't know," answered Greengrass a little too quickly. "I've waited for him for ten minutes in the common room, but he didn't show up."

He didn't want to come, concluded Hermione. She had expected as much, really. Ever since he had practically fled from the common room after—or rather, _during_—their conversation last week, he had been avoiding her. She suspected that this was how their year would continue. One would avoid the other, they would have some sort of conversation, things would seem to go in a hopeful, civil direction, one of them would snap, and the tables would turn, and it was the other's turn to start the avoiding.

It surprised her a little that he didn't show up today. She had heard him and Nott howl with laughter during their Arithmancy lecture, and she had expected him to rub in her face that she, as the Head Girl of Hogwarts, should know better than to daydream during class.

She sighed once more and ordered herself to stop thinking about Draco Malfoy and his ever-changing mood and pushed a book across the table. "This chapter covers the significance of powdered bicorn horn and chapter 46 covers the shredded Boomslang skin."

There was a brief flicker of gratitude in Greengrass' blue eyes when she reached out and pulled the book in her direction. "Thanks," she muttered awkwardly.

Hermione shook her head. She would never understand this stupid Slytherin pride.

X

"What happened?!" shrieked Parvati hysterically. She had been sitting in the stands with Lavender, Hermione and Luna, the four of them pressed against each other underneath two umbrella's. She had ran down as soon as the entire Gryffindor team had landed, clinging onto Lavender's arm as the two girls tried to observe the scene on the field.

"Bludger to the back of the head," answered Demelza weakly, winching as she walked past the pool of blood. "Probably a cranial fracture."

"I didn't do it on purpose, it was an accident!" uttered a scarily pale Jimmy, who was shaking in his boots as he stared at the unconscious girl that had been his unintended target. Ritchie was patting his back in an attempt to calm the boy down.

"We know, mate, we know."

"Get out of the _way!"_ barked Ginny angrily at the people who were gathering around the exit of the Quidditch pitch. "I want this girl to recover!"

"I've got her," offered Hermione quickly, taking out her wand and levitating the unconscious Gryffindor Seeker. "Dean! I'm going to need a hand, please."

Dean hurried to her side and together with Emily's friend Melanie Stanmore they made their way to the hospital wing, the rest of the team and supporters followed quickly. As Dean opened the doors for her, Hermione made sure not to knock Emily Taylor's head against doorways or walls.

Glancing at Emily's dirty Quidditch robes, Madam Pomfrey didn't need to ask or look twice to know what was going on. Muttering angry opinions about Quidditch, she put Emily in a bed and drew the curtains around it, hiding the small girl from view. Hermione and Dean watching with worry as the matron waved her wand in complicated patterns.

"Is she going to be okay?" piped Melanie, who had had come to watch her dorm mate's training and was looking rather pale as she stared at her unconscious friend.

Hermione nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Of course. Madam Pomfrey is the best."

"But only when I have the space to work," barked the old nurse in response. "Out, all of you, out! I can't tend to her with the three of you cluttering up the space around the bed. Out!"

The Gyffindors hurried out of the infirmary, not wanting to get on the matron's bad side. If you ever did, you would do well to pray that you wouldn't need her care for at least a month, or she would come up with particularly nasty treatments, extra foul-tasting potions and rougher healing spells.

Before long, Ginny and Luna had reached the infirmary as well. "How is she?" asked Ginny, sounding irritable and tired. Her Quidditch robes and hair were soaking wet from the rain, and the lower half of her uniform was drenched in mud. She had left a wet muddy trail all the way up to the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey is taking care of her now, I'm sure she'll be fine. It's nothing she hasn't seen before," answered Dean with a shrug.

"I promised her that she wouldn't get hurt," sighed Ginny, clenching her jaw. "She didn't want to join because she said it was too dangerous and that her Muggle parents wouldn't approve, and I promised her that nothing would happen. I couldn't let her go, she was just too skilled."

"I've got to go, guys," said Luna as she glanced at her wristwatch. "I've promised to help Grace with her homework. Tell Emily to get better!"

They waved Luna goodbye and Hermione took her friend's shoulder. "Emily is going to be fine, Ginny. She just… it's better if she doesn't tell her parents that she broke her skull."

Dean cocked his head and laughed in disbelief. "Sorry, but I thought you were Hermione Granger."

"And _because_ I'm Hermione Granger I know it's best to not tell your parents everything," she sighed. "If I told them about everything I've been through with Harry and Ron over the years, they would never allow me to come back. I'll tell them, but I have to find a good time."

"It's never going to be a good time, Hermione," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "You've been through so much, and you've seen so much danger over the years… It's going to take them decades to get over that."

"I know," answered Hermione softly. "Trust me, I know."

"_THERE YOU ARE! BESMIRCHING THE FLOORS! _Thought you'd get away with it, eh? Well, I didn't think so!"

Ginny tensed and whirled around. Argus Filch stood behind her, his face a deep shade of red. "I should hang you by your wrists from the dungeon ceilings! With chains! From your _wrists_!" he yelled at her, repeating himself as though he was convinced Ginny hadn't heard him the first time.

"Calm down! I'll go clean it myself!" snapped Ginny, staring at the old caretaker in disgust.

"You better, lassie! I'll be keeping my eye on you for the entire time, and be thorough about it, if you leave a single spot I'll drag you up to the Headmistress! Exactly like all those awful brothers of yours, always rude and inconsiderate... Making a mess of this castle..."

Hermione and Dean stared after Ginny and Filch as they disappeared around the corner. "He's off his rocker," muttered Dean.

"Such a timely observation," commented Hermione dryly.

X

A tapping on the window made Hermione look up from her book. She was lying on the couch again, trying to distract her worrying mind. Rising from the couch, she moved toward the window and opened it, allowing a beautiful Eagle-Owl to enter the common room. It gracefully landed on the coffee table, folded its enormous wings and scanned the room with a piercing look in its large yellow eyes. Crookshanks remained curled up in the armchair, his eyes never leaving the large bird. It seemed that the lion-like cat was finally a little intimidated.

The roll attached to the owl's leg was addressed to Malfoy, but when Hermione tried to take it, the owl turned its leg away from her and screeched loudly. After a few minutes, Malfoy still hadn't come down. She could hardly believe that he hadn't heard it, but made her made her way over to the stairs that led to his dorm anyway.

"Malfoy! There's an owl for you!"

Moving back to the couch, Hermione sat down and admired the beautiful animal. It was truly beautiful, and it seemed very proud. No doubt this was Malfoy's family owl.

Loud footsteps came down the stairs and an ill-tempered Malfoy entered the common room. "What's with the screaming?! How dare you scream at me like I'm a lowly servant? Is it really _that_ hard to just get it off your—" He abruptly halted when he noticed the owl. "—self. Oh."

"Yes, Malfoy," she answered, frowning at his ridiculous outburst. "It really was _that_ hard to get it myself."

"Aren't you keen-witted," snapped Malfoy. He approached the large bird and released the roll of parchment. The Eagle-Owl screeched once more and spread its enormous wings again, circling the common room before he departed through the window.

Hermione stared after the bird as it disappeared into the night. "That's a gorgeous owl," she said softly as she turned around to face Malfoy. "What's its name?"

Malfoy looked up from the roll of parchment his hands and frowned. "Name? It's an owl, why would I name it?"

"People usually name their pets," said Hermione, observing the Slytherin boy in surprise. "To show your affection for the animal."

"Again, Granger," said Malfoy, still frowning at her. "Why would I name it? It's not a pet. It's just an owl. It delivers my mail, and that's its sole purpose. I don't feel affectionate towards a _bird_."

Realising that her attempt at a civil conversation was quickly heading in the direction of yet another argument, Hermione sighed and sank down onto the couch again, taking her book.

"Why are you not yelling at me for not showing up at the library this morning?"

Hermione looked up at him in annoyance. "Why are _you_ not just opening your mail?"

To her surprise, Malfoy didn't snap back. Instead, he sat down in the empty armchair and sighed, playing with the letter. It remained silent for a good few minutes, and Hermione stared at him with a puzzled frown.

"Because it's from home, and I don't want to read that they've taken my father to Azkaban."

The words were barely audible, but Hermione had heard everything as clearly as she would have if he had screamed it. For a moment she felt sorry for him, briefly trying to imagine how uncertain he must feel.

"Your father won't go to Azkaban, Malfoy."

"Spare me those empty words, Granger," he snapped, clearly already regretting what he had said seconds before.

"I'm serious, Malfoy," said Hermione. "Your family switched sides in the end, we all know that. Your mother saved Harry's life. Don't worry so much."

He stared at her in disgust. "Easy for you to say, you haven't got a care in the world. Everyone _adores_ you."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she muttered. She didn't want to talk about her worries with him, but it stung that he so blatantly said that she didn't have any cares.

"Oh please," he spat bitterly. "Don't you think I've read the newspapers over the summer? There wasn't a day when you weren't mentioned. It was disgusting. If I'd gotten a Galleon for every time they described you three as _incredible_ I'd have doubled my fortune by now."

"I don't deny that," said Hermione softly. "I just said that you don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea whether or not I have cares, you just assume. You can't yell at me for _claiming to know you_ and then do the same with me."

Draco snorted mockingly. "You should have been a Hufflepuff with your overwhelming desire of fair play."

"You can mock me all you want, you know that what I'm saying is true."

"So what if I assume? It's not like I'm too far off."

Hermione glared at him. "You feared for your parents' life, didn't you? Well, so did I, except I was able to protect them, whereas you were driven into a corner. Don't you think that protecting my Muggle parents against an evil Wizarding force from a world they don't understand brings certain consequences?"

"I can't really think of anything that drastic," shrugged Malfoy, slowly tearing the family seal off the letter.

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to tell him, but at the same time she wanted him to understand. After a short battle with herself, she decided to give in.

"I modified my parents' memories last year," she muttered, looking down at the table. She could feel his eyes on her. "I made them forget who they were, that they had a daughter, and I gave them an almost uncontrollable desire to emigrate to Australia, which they did after only a week. I have been looking for them for half the summer until I finally found them to reverse the spell. How do you think they felt?"

When she received no response, she looked up and saw Malfoy staring at her in a similar way as during the conversation he fled from. She didn't understand why he was looking so uncomfortable, he had really been asking for an explanation.

"I would guess they feel quite cheated," said Malfoy slowly. He stood up and crossed the common room towards the staircase. With his foot on the first step, he turned around and stared at her with a musing look on his face. "And if I were them, I'd probably never trust you again," he said, shrugging as though he hadn't said something hurtful at all. He climbed the stairs and disappeared out of sight.

Hermione gasped for air and tried very hard to not be affected by his words. She knew how vile he could be, and she really shouldn't let him get to her. His words shouldn't mean a thing. But no matter how often she repeated that, she couldn't help but feel quite upset. She climbed the stairs and got into bed quickly, feeling as though the world was nothing but a blur.

She soon fell asleep restlessly.


	14. Chapter fourteen

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

**_Chapter fourteen_**

**_Tuesday, 20 October 1998_**

It was little past midnight, and Draco was still sitting on his four-poster bed, playing around with the roll of parchment in his hands that he didn't want to unroll. He really didn't know what to expect, and he wasn't sure whether he was prepared for the news. Even though he realised that Granger was probably right about his father, he still felt nervous. The times his mother sent him random letters just send him sweets or to find out whether he was doing alright were long gone. With a sigh, he finally unrolled the parchment and glanced upon his mother's neat handwriting.

_Draco,_

_Your father's second trial before the Wizengamot will be coming Thursday. The Ministry has considered his offer of giving inside information and revealing identities, and they agreed to hear whether he has anything valuable for them. If he does, his house arrest will be considerably shortened and his wand will be returned. If not, he will have to remain at the Manor until further notice._

_I am merely writing you to keep you informed. Your presence at the trial is not required. However, should you insist on being present, write me back at once so I can try to convince your Headmistress that it is important that you're here._

_Thank you for returning my wand, I'm happy to hear Potter had the good sense of returning your own. I hope you are okay. I have decided against informing your father about your assigned quarters and that class they made you take, and I would advise you to do the same. He is finally doing better; I don't want to ruin his progress._

_Keep up whatever it is that you're doing. I'm proud of you, Draco._

_Love,_

_Mother_

He didn't have much time to worry about his father's upcoming trial, because only a minute after he finished reading his mother's letter, a horrible scream echoed through the Head's Tower. His every muscle went rigid and a shiver went down his spine. The screaming continued, and Draco inhaled sharply, feeling completely unnerved. He recognised the screams. He had heard them before, and it wasn't something he wanted to be reminded of.

Not knowing what to do, he jumped up and restlessly paced through his room, wishing for it to stop. When the screams were alternated with sobs, Draco couldn't take it anymore. He ran down the stairs and crossed the common room, only briefly halting at the other staircase. As he quickly ran up the stairs a little voice inside his head yelled at him to be cautious, but he reached the top of the stairs without activating a Glisseo charm. He wondered for a second why the dorm wasn't properly secured, but he was grateful for it.

Draco roughly opened the door and hurried into the dusky bedroom of the Head Girl, who was restlessly moving through the bed. It was almost as though she was possessed and tried to shake off the evil within. She desperately cried and screamed, and after quickly lighting the room, Draco noticed her cat hidden underneath the four-poster bed, his tail thick and his eyes wide with anxiety.

"Granger!" he yelled with a hoarse voice. "Granger! Wake up!"

The girl didn't seem to hear a single word of what he was yelling. Her face was wet from her tears, her eyes were squeezed shut and her hands clenched into fists. She seemed to be completely reliving a past event.

"Granger!"

Her behaviour was worrying him, and Draco had no idea what to do. She was completely unresponsive to his calls and her screams covered his skin with goosebumps. He shivered as another piercing scream echoed through the room, unable to endure this any longer.

Draco launched himself forward, grabbed Granger's shoulders and started shaking her, hoping it was enough to wake her. "Granger! _Granger!_ God dammit, Granger, _wake up!"_

After a few unbelievably long seconds, the girl finally woke up with a start and sat up immediately, her eyes flicking through the room in panic as she grasped the first thing within reach, which happened to be his right arm. She was breathing heavily and Draco worried that she might be hyperventilating, because she was still crying and she didn't seem to inhale enough air. Her tearful eyes met his gaze and she stared at him for a short moment before collapsing into his arms, crying desperately.

His body tensed and he tried to move away from Granger, but he was unable to pull away. Completely baffled by the way she was holding on to him for dear life, he stared down uncomfortably at the only thing he could see: her enormous mass of bushy brown curls.

Draco had always been glad to be blessed with female company that never seemed to cry. He had known Pansy for the larger part of his life, and he knew her like the back of his hand. Whenever she was upset, she was more often angry than sad, and he always knew how to comfort her. The girl in his arms was a complete stranger to him in many ways, and he had only seen her like this once, when she was tortured by his aunt many months ago. He had no idea how to comfort her, and quite frankly, he felt much too uncomfortable to even attempt it.

After a few minutes and a brief inward battle, he decided that seeing her cry like this was much more uncomfortable than trying to calm her down, so he hesitantly put his arms around her and awkwardly patted her back. It actually seemed to be working. She continued to sob quietly with her face pressed against his chest, but at least she was properly breathing again.

"What in Godric's name is going on in here?" barked a loud voice unexpectedly from behind them, sounding utterly confounded.

Draco instantly let go of Granger and whirled around, finding himself face to face with Professor McGonagall, who was staring at the scene before her with utter shock, dressed in a dark green nightgown, her grey hair draped over her left shoulder, tied into a loose braid.

"Mr Malfoy! What have you done to Ms Granger?!" she exclaimed in shock, sounding aghast, undoubtedly believing he had tried to do indecent things without permission. "You better explain yourself immediately because I am on the mere verge of expelling you right this instant!"

"P-Professor McGonagall," sobbed Granger, taking in deep breaths as she tried to calm herself down. "He d-didn't do anything… H-He was comf-forting me. I must have s-screamed in my sleep and w-woken him up…"

"I thought she was being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse in here!" snapped Draco as he stared at the Headmistress in disgust, utterly insulted that she would actually think so lowly of him. "I came in here and I just tried to wake her up."

McGonagall stared at him in suspicion with narrowed eyes, seemingly considering his explanation. She glanced at Granger, who nodded in confirmation. "It's t-true. I had a n-nightmare," the girl sniffed with embarrassment.

The Headmistress continued to eye the two students for a moment longer. "Alright," she said after a brief uncomfortable silence. "I'll be downstairs. Mr Malfoy, you're coming with me."

Draco released some of the air he had been holding and followed the old witch down the stairs, dreading the conversation that would undoubtedly follow. He briefly looked at Granger over his shoulder before turning the corner and saw how the ginger beast jumped onto her lap and how she hid her face in his fur. He couldn't blame her for feeling embarrassed; he would feel the same, if not worse, if she had woken him up from a nightmare like that.

McGonagall slowly paced through the common room, shaking her head as she muttered incomprehensible things under her breath, none of which seemed to be directed at him. Draco walked over to the kitchenette and took out a mug, filling it with water. After a short moment of hesitation, he filled another one, and muttered the incantation Granger had taught him the other day twice, creating two mugs of hot chocolate. He hesitated once more before slowly turning around to the Headmistress.

"Um… Professor? Would you… um… like some hot chocolate?" he asked awkwardly, wishing it wouldn't be considered so rude to simply ignore your company.

The old witch blinked at him in surprise for a few seconds. "No… But thank you for the offer, Mr Malfoy," she finally answered. The room went silent, and Draco was surprised that the woman wasn't yelling at him for entering the Head Girl's chambers at night, without her permission, and being caught holding her as she cried.

After a few minutes, Granger appeared on the bottom step of her staircase, keeping a blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were a little red, but at least she wasn't crying anymore. The cat appeared behind her and pushed past his owner, running towards the couch, where he settled in a corner. Draco walked up to her and offered her one of the mugs of hot chocolate. She took it with both hands and stared at him with surprise and confusion.

"Are you feeling a little better, Ms Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall gently, eyeing the girl with a concerned expression, as Draco moved away from her again.

"A little," said Granger softly, taking a sip from the mug. "I just… don't really understand how you knew…"

"It wasn't because of your nightmare, Ms Granger. I have warded your dormitory before you arrived here, and I was notified that someone had entered your room."

The Head Girl stared at the Headmistress in confusion. "Why?"

McGonagall briefly glanced at him before turning her attention back at Granger. "Ms Granger, you didn't honestly think that I would let you stay here with Mr Malfoy after everything that has happened between you two, everything that you have been through, without some little extra precautions, did you?"

Draco glared at the Headmistress in indignation, wondering if he had really been such a horrible human being that he deserved the way she was talking about him, and the little trust she had in him. Granger glanced in his direction and seemed to be torn between gratefulness toward McGonagall and embarrassment for what she had said about him.

"If it would make you feel more comfortable, Ms Granger, you are allowed to stay in the Gryffindor dormitory tonight. I know you feel more at home there, it might help you sleep better."

"That won't be necessary, Professor, but thank you," said Granger softly. "I'll be okay here."

"Well then," said the Headmistress as she pursed her lips. "I will be going back to my own quarters. Should anything happen, please come see me. I wish the both of you a good night."

"You too, Professor."

McGonagall turned around and left the common room through the portrait hole.

Draco made his way over to the couch and sat down as far from the ginger cat as the couch allowed. He sighed and sat back with his eyes closed. He had known beforehand that this school year was going to be intense, but he hadn't known exactly _how_ intense. Being back here didn't turn back time the way he had originally expected. Everyone was still recovering from the War, and involuntarily and unintended, everyone managed to affect each other's recover process.

"Malfoy?"

He looked up at Granger, who was standing beside the couch, still wrapped up in her blanket with the mug of hot chocolate still between her hands. She looked really tired and still quite embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry for bothering you and for dragging you into this," she said softly. "But, for whatever reason you decided to do it, I'm glad you woke me up. So thank you, I suppose."

Without acknowledging her apology or accepting her gratitude, he looked down at his own mug of hot chocolate. "I mentioned earlier that it sounded as though you were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse… You actually were, weren't you." It wasn't a question, it was an obvious observation.

Granger put her mug on the table and sank down onto the couch as well, lifting the cat onto her lap. "Yes," she muttered.

"Why now?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "We've been back for almost two months and this is the first time you cause a scene like this. Why now?"

It remained silent for a while. Granger buried her face in the fur of her cat once more as she hugged the beast. "I haven't been feeling well lately," she finally answered softly. "A lot of… unpleasant things have happened over the past few weeks and… it just became too much."

"How do you know that's the reason?"

"Because last time I had such a vivid nightmare was during the search for my parents, in Australia. The amount of stress I was dealing with was just too much, and I was all by myself. I was scared, I was afraid I wouldn't find them, afraid that I wouldn't be able to reverse the spell…" Her voice trailed off and she wiped away some tears.

Draco tried his best to avoid looking at her, but somehow his eyes automatically kept looking for her. He felt very uncomfortable as he couldn't remember ever having seen Granger like this, so on edge and vulnerable. She was always so strong and she always seemed so impossible to break, he had never expected to see her in such a fragile state.

"Why… why did you… wake me?"

"You continued to scream so loudly, I couldn't handle it," he said curtly. The expression on her face changed rapidly, and there was nothing but hurt in her eyes. He hesitated. "You reliving it… made me relive it too," he admitted softly. He hesitated for another moment, not sure whether he wanted to continue this conversation. "It's not just you that's haunted by that day."

"I know," she murmured.

He looked up at her, puzzled. "How?" he snapped in surprise.

Granger slowly stroked the cat's back and took a deep breath, keeping her tearful eyes down. "I saw you… the way you were looking at me when… _she…_ was torturing me… And you knew it was us, but you didn't say anything… I knew something had changed… somehow… And you looked so… horrified…"

"What are you?" hissed Draco at her after a moment of silence, feeling completely unnerved. Her head snapped up and her eyes were full of hurt and confusion.

"People don't just… _observe_ the room while being tortured like that," he continued harshly as he stared at her in disbelief. "You _lied_ to Bellatrix about that sword while she Crucio'd the living daylight out of you… You managed to see me, really _see_ me... And _after all that _you used Polyjuice Potion to _turn into the woman who nearly murdered you!_ What the hell are you? No human being can possibly _do_ all that!"

She drew in a shaky breath and looked away from him as though he had hit her across the face, tears flowing freely once again. "You are t-the only one so f-far wh-who seems t-to realise how… how _hard_ it was f-for me t-to do that…" she sobbed softly, her words barely audible. Draco knew that she was talking about transforming into Bellatrix. He suspected that was the only thing that she had done that she considered to be remarkable enough to be worth mentioning.

"We were on a mission," she continued after a moment of silence, in which she had managed to somewhat pull herself together. "Our goal was clear, and we knew the road was going to be long and difficult. Our chances of succeeding were dependant on my ability to lie. I did what I had to do."

They sat beside each other in silence for a while. Granger reached for her mug and muttered a quick heating spell, warming the dark liquid that had gone cold. She took a sip and pulled up her knees, wrapping the blanket a little tighter around herself.

"Why didn't anyone join you to Australia?" wondered Draco out loud.

Granger briefly glanced up at him, frowning in surprise. "Because Harry felt that his work wasn't done yet," she answered softly. "He was needed at the Ministry. And Ron…" She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Ron had just lost his brother. I left the day after he was buried. He wasn't ready to leave his family behind again… And it didn't feel right to bring someone else along…" her voice trailed off, and silence filled the room once more. Granger winched as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her left arm, and Draco knew her thoughts were once again with her torture.

"Do… do you miss her?" she asked with a brittle voice as she slowly looked up at him. "Bellatrix?" she elucidated.

"No."

"But… she was your _aunt_…"

"And she got locked up in Azkaban when I wasn't even six months old and I met her for the first time when I was almost sixteen," answered Draco curtly. "She came to live with us. And then my father… she behaved as though she was my father's replacement. My mother was torn between happiness for her sister's return and overwhelming sadness for my father's imprisonment. She wasn't so bad all the time… taught me some great things… but we never bonded. It was too late and too short, and she was too obsessed with turning me into a better Death Eater than my father had been…"

He met her eyes and expected to see judgement, but instead he looked into two brown orbs of compassion.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For you having to go through that," answered Granger softly. "For me asking… and for Crabbe… did they… did they ever find his body?"

Draco looked down and staring into his empty mug, inhaling sharply. "Yes… but it was unrecognizable… They could only identify him by using some Muggle procedure," he spat bitterly, knowing that his friend would have never wanted that. He had rather mixed feelings about it himself, too.

"I'm sorry," she muttered again.

A part of him wanted to tell her that he was sorry for what she had to go through too, but he couldn't. He had already been much too soft and vulnerable tonight. He didn't really regret it, but he still felt uncomfortable for his heart-to-heart conversation with Granger. He had never been this open to someone, and he didn't know what had changed. What unnerved him more was that he felt some sense of admiration for the girl and for how strong she was, even during the worst of moments. The more he thought about their conversation, the more he felt the uneasy feeling in his stomach spread.

He stood up abruptly and forced himself to take a breath and not run straight to his dormitory. "Go get some rest," he said gently. "We have a long day ahead, and if I know her at all, Greengrass will not accept half efforts tomorrow."

"Okay," muttered Granger. "I… just… thank you, Malfoy…"

"Don't mention it," he answered softly, hoping the girl in front of him realised that he meant that in several different ways.


	15. Chapter fifteen

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter fifteen**_

_**Tuesday, 27 October 1998**_

As she sat across from Ginny during breakfast, Hermione genuinely wondered whether she was allowed to think that lately, being around her dear friend had become a much more unpleasant experience than being around Draco Malfoy. It was a thought that worried her. Ironically, the Head Boy was, of course, the biggest reason for the redhead's recent foul moods.

Ever since Ginny had discovered that Malfoy had booked the Quidditch pitch every single morning of every single day for the weeks leading up to the first match of the year she had been stomping around the castle in anger. Her Weasley temper simply didn't cool down. It hadn't helped that Hermione had pointed out that Ginny had initially done the exact same thing to the Slytherin team. She had received a deathly glare in return.

It wasn't that Hermione failed to understand the importance Quidditch held for her younger friend, but she wished the girl would have a more friendly and less competitive approach. She knew it was Ginny's only proper distraction from the fact that George still wasn't doing well, and on top of that, she was dealing with immense pressure regarding her position on the team. She did, after all, succeed none other than Harry Potter as the team's Captain. It was the same pressure little Emily was feeling.

The fourth-year Gryffindor had immediately forgiven Ginny for making misleading promises regarding the game's safety. The girl had recovered within a day, and she had admitted that it had given her quite a thrill to be the talk of the day. She had admitted that she was scared to disappoint the supporters, because while she was a skilled Seeker, she knew she was in no way as good as Harry had been.

Malfoy was a different story entirely. Ever since their heart-to-heart conversation the week before, his attitude had actually become quite civil. Though they had both avoided anything that couldn't be considered a shallow conversation, Hermione was happy with the development, even though she still felt embarrassed when she thought of how she had cried in his arms.

"I'm heading down to the dungeons," she commented after a quick glance at her wristwatch and determining that it was nearly time for her Potions class. "Will you be at Slughorn's pre-Halloween dinner party tonight?"

"I don't know," answered Ginny curtly. "We don't have training tonight because of the predicted thunder storm, but I'm not really in the mood for a lovely get-together."

Hermione stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder. "Well, should you change your mind, Slughorn asked me to pick up a certain Valmai Morgan at the gates around six," she said nonchalantly, as though what she had just announced was as uninteresting as discussing the weather.

Ginny's head snapped up at the mention of one of her favourite Quidditch players and she stared at the older girl with wide eyes that twinkled with excitement. "You're joking," she exclaimed.

"That sounds as though you have changed your mind already," teased Hermione, happy that her announcement had managed to cheer Ginny up a bit. "So, I'll see you tonight, then?"

"I—Yes, maybe. I think so," sighed the redhead, and Hermione knew her well enough to accept the answer as a guaranteed presence. She waved and turned around, heading for the dungeons.

She had a friendly chat with Mandy and Morag while waiting for the door of the Potions classroom to be opened. From the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy and Greengrass, who were engaged in a serious-looking conversation. After a few minutes, Professor Slughorn arrived and let the students in.

Hermione was the first to reach their table. She opened her bag and started taking out her things as she listened carefully to the muffled conversation between her two Potions partners.

"How could this happen again? You promised me to stay with her at all times."

"Don't you think I did? Besides, it doesn't matter whether I do, last time I was there too, remember?"

"What about Zabini?"

"I don't _know_, Malfoy. He's been sulking around again for days."

Greengrass put her bag down on the table with quite a loud _bang_. She stood with her stomach pressed against the table, impatiently waiting for Malfoy to pass. When he reached his own seat, she roughly pulled her chair backwards and sat down with a heavy sigh.

"So you're telling me she had an unstoppable nosebleed," said Malfoy, staring at his classmate with a frown.

"Yes, it literally gushed out of her nose. I tried every Counter-Spell I knew of, but it only seemed to make it worse. I had to drag her up to the hospital wing because she had lost so much blood already that she had lost consciousness. Pomfrey said she had no idea what she was dealing with, so she has to stay until at least tomorrow and take Blood-Replenishing Potions ever thirty minutes."

Hermione frowned at them with worry and gasped when Greengrass described the symptoms. "Nosebleed Nougat," she breathed.

Both Malfoy and Greengrass fell silent and turned their attention to her. "What's that, Granger?" said Greengrass irritably. "If you want to contribute, _do_ speak up, will you."

"Nosebleed Nougat," repeated Hermione a little louder. "That's what you're describing: the symptoms of Nosebleed Nougat."

"Isn't that one of those sweets the Weasel twins developed for those truancy boxes?" said Malfoy grumpily. "Aren't they supposed to be harmless?"

"They are," she answered quickly. "But a few years ago, when they were still being tested, they accidentally gave someone a Blood Blisterpod instead of the curing sweet, and it made it a whole lot worse. I think that's what caused the unstoppable nosebleed." She conveniently left out the fact that it had been Katie Bell who had suffered from the test-phase of the Weasley sweets. Any mention of the former Gryffindor girl might possibly cause drastic changes to their current truce, something Hermione would rather avoid.

The two Sytherin students glanced at each other for a moment before Greengrass resolutely pushed her chair backwards and grabbed her bag from the table. "Well then, I better go up to inform Pomfrey."

"What?" said Malfoy in surprise. "No, you stay here, I'm the Head Boy, I'll go."

"You left me alone with her," hissed the blonde girl with an angry frown, pointing her finger at Hermione. "during all our library get-together's. Now it's _my_ turn to get a break. Don't expect me to come back." With that, she walked up to Professor Slughorn to excuse herself.

Her female Potions partner's words left Hermione feeling quite insulted. She glared at Greengrass' back as the girl explained herself to the Potions Master before whirling around and hurrying out of the classroom. She then glanced at Malfoy, who had been staring after his classmate as well. His expression was a mixture of surprise and insult.

"I take it Parkinson has been victim to another attack?" inquired Hermione softly.

"How do you know about those attacks?" muttered Malfoy, a dark look on his face.

She shrugged. "I'm the Head Girl. Isn't it my duty to be informed about such incidents?"

Malfoy shrugged as well and took out his Potions essay and a book. Hermione studied his face out of the corner of her eye and noticed that he made a rather crestfallen impression. He must be worried about Parkinson. She thought of Ron and when he had been in the hospital wing after getting poisoned by the mead originally meant for Professor Dumbledore, and the heavy feeling of worry she had carried around in her stomach. She understood exactly how he was feeling.

"She'll be okay, Malfoy," she muttered.

"I know that," grumbled the Head Boy. "The question is just for how long before they target her again."

Hermione turned her attention back to her nearly finished essay and sighed quietly. It was no use to pretend to be worried for the female seventh-year Slytherin prefect in question, she knew Malfoy was aware that she as much as detested the girl. The way she felt about Pansy Parkinson was very similar to the way Malfoy felt about Harry and Ron. She still remembered how the girl had tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort. She didn't believe Parkinson had done it because she was evil—Hermione didn't think she was bright enough for that. Instead, she suspected that Parkinson had been afraid of the prospect of battle, and had seen this as the only way to avoid that. In a sick and twisted way, she could somewhat understand that, but it still bothered her. What Hermione really didn't like, however, was that there were attacks going on right under her nose, and she had no idea who was responsible.

"Since we're almost done with the essay," said Hermione, determined to change the subject as she reached inside her bag, taking out her lilac folder. "I was wondering if maybe you could have a look at the new patrol schedule. I haven't taken the Quidditch trainings into account yet because, well, I'm not really well informed about them." She took a piece of parchment from the folder and handed it to Malfoy, who took it with a bored expression on his face. He scanned the schedule and frowned, scratching out a few names of Quidditch players and scribbling down other names instead.

"Granger, for the last time, stop pairing up Pritchard and Richmond, you know they can't stand the sight of each other," he sighed, drawing a forceful line through one of the names. "And I'll take Pansy's shifts this week," he announced, scribbling down his own name above Parkinson's.

"Okay, fine. You can switch my shifts with Pritchard's, then. I hope Randolph Burrow is a worthy match for him," she said, the words coming out more snobbishly than she had intended.

Malfoy glanced up at her with an annoyed frown. "If you want to stubbornly continue to pair them up, that's fine, but don't come complaining after they murdered each other. You know you're the one who carries the final responsibility, not me."

"Fine. I'm sorry," muttered Hermione with reluctance.

"Shouldn't you be aware of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch trainings by now?" asked Malfoy as he glanced at the schedule, ignoring her half-hearted apology. "Isn't Weasley friends with that little Ravenclaw Chaser?"

"She is, but they talk about Quidditch too often for me to remember specifics. And I might not really be paying attention, most of the time," she admitted with a sigh.

A small smirk appeared on Malfoy's lips. He switched a few more patrol shifts and then handed her the edited patrol schedule. "That should do," he said. He took his book and opened it on the page he had bookmarked. "Now, let's finish this sodding essay so we can get brewing next week."

X

Hermione took a deep breath and inhaled the cool, fresh evening air as she walked on the Hogwarts grounds, making her way to the gates. The protective enchantments would be temporarily lifted from 6:00 p.m. until 6:01 p.m. to let their guest in, which meant that Hermione would have to be precisely on time—which, of course, she was.

"Good evening, Ms Morgan," she greeted the athletic young woman on the other side of the gates with a smile.

"And to you… Ms Granger, right? Please, call me Valmai," answered the famous female Quidditch player. She had tanned skin and her dark shoulder-length hair danced around playfully when she moved her head.

The gates opened, and Valmai entered the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione shook her hand to introduce herself properly and led the Holyhead Harpies Chaser back to the castle.

"It's so good to be back here," said Valmai cheerfully as she glanced around, taking in the surroundings. She smiled brightly when her eyes found the Quidditch pitch. "That's where it all began," she told Hermione, who smiled politely back at her, trying to hide the fact that she had talked enough Quidditch for today.

They reached the castle and walked through the corridors to Professor Slughorn's office.

"Valmai, dear, how are you?" exclaimed Slughorn jovially once Hermione had let her inside. "It is so good to see you again, please, sit down, come, come," he said, gently pushing her toward the table, seating her beside him. "Crystallised pineapple! You remembered! Sweet girl, you shouldn't have!"

Hermione quickly made her way over to the other side of the table, where Ginny was seated. She recognised the Carrow twins from the Slug Club parties two years previous, Madeline Ormskirk, a fifth-year Hufflepuff whose father was the head of the International Magical Office of Law, sixth-year Ravenclaw Ethan Bexley, who came from a family of powerful Hit Witches and Wizards, fifth year Ravenclaw Geoffrey Stradbroke, whose grandfather was a well-known Arithmancer and finally, fifth-year Slytherin Imogen Stretton, whose mother was the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. There were also three younger faces that she did not recognise.

"I really thought you were joking," whispered Ginny once Hermione sat down, as she stared at Valmai in admiration, who was speaking animatedly with Professor Slughorn.

"Of course not," whispered Hermione back with a smile, playfully nudging her friend in the ribs for doubting her truthfulness.

Slughorn needlessly introduced Valmai to his students before serving dinner. As Hermione had expected, just like the during her sixth year, it consisted of nothing but the finest foods and drinks. The Potions Master showed a particular interest in Imogen Stretton, as her mother held one of the highest positions within the Ministry and had to answer only to the Minister of Magic himself. According to Slughorn's praises, the blonde Slytherin girl was also an incredibly skilled Potioneer.

"My great-grandmother has invented a number of appearance-enhancing potions," said the girl superciliously as she curled a string of blonde hair around her finger. "They are among the best sold potions of all time. It's been said several times that they are the best of their kind."

"Naturally, naturally," said Slughorn, who stared intently at the girl with twinkling eyes. He then turned his attention back to Valmai. "I must introduce you to that lovely young lady right over there," he said enthusiastically, gesturing to Ginny, whose face immediately turned a little pink. "Do you know who that is, Valmai? That is Ginny Weasley. Rumour has it she's the one who has captured Harry Potter's heart, yes, and rightfully so, of course, they're a perfect match. You must come back for one of her Quidditch matches, I insist. The girl is a Chaser of your calibre, Valmai, I'm _telling_ you."

Valmai studied Ginny with great interest. "Really? I'd be happy to see that for myself, then," she said with a bright smile.

"Oh, and did I mention that she's also the Captain of her House team? Yes, a real pearl, that one," continued Slughorn generously, grinning when he noticed Ginny's face colour into a deeper shade of red. She shyly glanced at Valmai, who was grinning at her as well, giving her a quick wink.

It was an entertaining evening, and the highlight was watching Ginny and Valmai engage in a very enthusiastic conversation about various Chaser tactics. Around 9 p.m. Hermione started to lose interest in the conversations she had with the other Slug Club members. Much to her surprise, Imogen proved to be less vain than she had initially appeared and was quite an interesting conversation partner. Together with Geoffrey and Ethan they had an animated conversation about the possibilities of an internship at the Ministry of Magic after graduating from Hogwarts. After waiting five more minutes, she excused herself from the conversation and wished everyone a good night before slipping out of the office.

As she made her way through the dark, chilly corridors back up to the Head's Tower she encountered two third-year Slytherins. After deducting a couple of House points and writing down both of their names for detention, as well as having received a couple of sharp insults and nasty hand-gestures, she reached her destination rather irritable.

"Fwooper quill," she muttered flatly and waited for the portrait to slide to the left, eager to go up to her dormitory to call it a day early for a change, but upon entering the common room she was unpleasantly surprised.

"_MALFOY!" _she shrieked angrily. "What in Merlin's name is the meaning of this?!"

On the couch, two people were intimately intertwined with each other while, bluntly said, snogging each other senseless. Upon her shriek, their faces broke apart, and two pairs of angry eyes belonging to her two least favourite Slytherins glared up at her.

"Granger, lovely to see you," sneered Pansy Parkinson, sounding a little breathless. Her words were thickly laced with sarcasm and she wrinkled her nose as though something foul smelling had settled under her nose. "Now, do everyone a favour and please rid yourself of this room."

"How dare you!" gasped Hermione, deeply offended. "You're in _my_ quarters, a place that is, I might add, not available to you at any time. Get out!"

Malfoy sat up and pushed Parkinson's legs from his lap. "Granger, calm down. Can't you just go upstairs and pretend you never saw anything?" he said, clearly trying to control his temper.

"I didn't think so, Malfoy. She's not supposed to be in here—she's not _allowed_ to be in here, and you were very much aware of that when you brought her here. She goes, and she goes now."

"_She_ isn't planning on going _anywhere, _Granger," spat Parkinson venomously, lifting her chin. To prove her point, she crossed her legs and folded her arms in front of her chest.

Hermione straightened her posture. "Twenty points from Slytherin for deliberately disobeying a direct order from the Head Girl," she said, glowering, pleased to see that Parkinson had the grace to swap the hostile look in her eyes for a shocked one.

Malfoy jumped up abruptly and stared at her, his face contorted into a mask of anger. "God dammit, Granger, you can't possibly think you can—"

"I _can,"_ interjected Hermione forcefully, glaring up at him. "And I just _did_. If you don't want to lose any more points or risk a nasty detention, Parkinson," she snapped as she looked past Malfoy at the dark-haired girl she so very much disliked. "you'll go back to the Slytherin dungeons right this instant. Don't make me repeat myself."

Malfoy held his arm in front of Parkinson to stop her from moving past him, but the Slytherin girl pushed his arm out of the way and walked past him anyway. "It's okay, Draco," she said softly, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She walked up to Hermione and closed the distance between them until their noses almost touched. Staring at her with a hateful glare, Parkinson lifted her chin once more. "You're not only a sorry excuse for a witch, you filthy Mudblood, but you're a sorry excuse for a woman as well," she hissed before roughly elbowing her way past the Head Girl and exiting the common room.

Hermione gaped after her, angry at the girl for being such an unrefined troll. When she turned back, she gasped and jumped back, recreating a comfortable and acceptable space between herself and Malfoy, who had walked up to her and was now glaring down at her, standing rather close to her. Much too close to Hermione's liking.

"What the _hell_ was that for, Granger?!" he growled, seemingly barely able to control his anger.

Slightly taken aback, Hermione stared up at him, quickly composing herself. "Oh no, Malfoy, you're not going to turn me into the bad guy again this time. Rules are rules, and you knew from day one that you're not allowed to bring guests in here!" she snapped at him.

"Listen you me, you uptight little wench," hissed Malfoy angrily. "That girl has been attacked. That might not mean anything to you, but it sure as hell means a lot to me. Don't you dare to claim that you wouldn't run straight up to your beloved Weasel for hugs and comfort had that been happening to you!"

"That's not the point!" she sputtered in shock, unable to believe that he had really just brought up Ron.

"That's _exactly_ the point, Mudblood!" he nearly yelled at her. "She's upset and she needs to take her mind off things! Thanks to _you_ and your unwillingness to strike a deal,_ I'm_ still stuck here, unable to go down to the Slytherin dungeons, so there was no other way to comfort her than to allow her in here. You could have easily gone up to your sodding dorm pretending you never even saw her, we wouldn't have bothered you in any way!"

"I…"

"No. Just keep your mouth shut, I don't want to hear it. You just forced Pansy, who has been as much as poisoned earlier today, to make her way through a dark castle all by herself. Be bloody jealous all you want, I couldn't care less, but don't bother me with it, nor with your inconsiderate behaviour."

"I'm not _jealous!"_ exclaimed Hermione, staring at him with wide eyes, feeling utterly offended. "My feelings for Ron have nothing to do with this, and it's none of your business to even begin with!"

Malfoy let out a derisive laugh. "You're _making_ it my business, Granger! If your little boyfriend was still around you wouldn't be so bloody uptight about the bloody rules and you would understand that sometimes two people need each other's comfort. I thought you were mature enough to understand that, Granger, but you're nothing but a little girl who read one too many books and believes she knows it all."

"_You arrogant son of a—"_

"I dare you to finish that sentence, Mudblood," interrupted Malfoy sharply, shooting her a murderous glare. "Humour me, I _dare_ you."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut in anger and desperately blinked a few upcoming tears away. She couldn't believe his nerve, she couldn't believe how vile he was. He had broken the rules but instead of accepting his fault, he had to go and make her feel bad for being a responsible Head Girl. And he just had to hit her way below the belt again. It might have been better of her to act with some more tact, but it was no legitimate reason for him to completely burn her down again.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger, stop crying," sneered Malfoy's irritable voice, pulling her from her thoughts and back into the miserable reality of the common room. It wasn't until she saw the annoyed expression on his face that she realised a few tears had escaped from her eyes. She quickly wiped them off her cheeks. "I never expected you to be the kind of girl to make a guy feel guilty by crying. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not sensitive to that kind of emotional blackmail," continued Malfoy scornfully.

"I'm not crying to make you feel guilty, because quite frankly, I don't believe you to be capable of that," she said softly.

"Snap out of it, Mudblood," he said in a bored tone as he walked away from her.

"That's the third time you've called me a Mudblood tonight, Malfoy. You're getting repetitive."

Malfoy snorted and dropped down onto the couch, readjusting the pillows as he lay down. "You need to be reminded every now and then."

Hermione took a deep breath. "At least I'm a good person to compensate for my apparent bad blood," she said softly. "All you have is your _good_ _blood_, but I doubt that's going to be enough to restore your family's soiled name."

"_What_ did you just say?" snapped Malfoy in utter disbelief, apparently too shocked to remember to sound angry.

"I think you heard me," answered Hermione, staring at him intently, determined to tell him exactly what she thought of him. "When people judge me for my _bad blood_ I know they're not worth my time, because I know I'm more than that. But you're a different story, aren't you? Because when people judge you for the reasons that caused you and your family to fall from grace, you know it's because you deserve it. You're a horrible person who did horrible things."

The Head Boy shot her a rather passionate glare and opened his mouth, but as soon as Hermione pushed her left sleeve up, he snapped it shut at once and stared down at her arm in silence, his facial expression completely unreadable.

"These scars will tell you what I am, who I am," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his face, registering every minuscule change in his composure, however brief. "And I'm proud of that, Malfoy. Proud of my ancestry and proud of who I am." She slowly moved forward and sank down onto the couch, leaving only mere inches of space between them. She grabbed his left arm, which he immediately tried to pull back as though he had been in touch with electricity, but she had counted on that, and was thus prepared for it. With one smooth movement she pushed his sleeve up, revealing the Dark Mark that was branded into his skin. Over the past few months, the Mark had faded from deep black to a medium shade of grey, but it was still there, visible as ever, as an everlasting witness.

"Can you say the same?" she whispered before standing up and letting go of his arm again. She turned around and made her way up to her dormitory, unaware of the fact that the boy she left behind in the common room would continue to stare at the deterrent skull on his arm for quite some time, not quite as untouched by her words as he tried to convince himself.

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A/N: I would really appreciate if you took the time to leave a little review telling me what you think so far. :)

Reminder one: one step forward, two steps back. Reminder two: there's a fine line between love and hate, and as Hermione stated earlier in the fic, to hate something, you must have cared about it first, to some extent.

Hint: someone's hating, and thus caring, in a way.

That would be all. See you next chapter!


	16. Chapter sixteen

A/N: **This is important, please read_. _**I have a little announcement to make before letting you move on to the new chapter, but it's not the greatest news. Not for you guys, at least. For me, it's pretty great. For the past four months I've been unemployed and on the hunt for a job. I picked up writing to keep busy and to stay positive, because I had way too much free time on my hands and I was starting to feel a little depressed because of all the rejection letters and job interviews that led to nothing. The good news, for me, is that after four long months, I've finally found a job, and I started last Monday.

What does this mean? Will I stop writing? No, I will not. But I will be working eight hours a day, five days a week from now on, and that means that I won't have as much free time as before. I trust that you all understand that this means that I won't have as much time to write as I had up until now, and it will result in slower updates. I know that really sucks, but I will not give up on this fanfic, and I really hope you won't either.

Please try to be patient if you don't hear from me in a while. I _will_ keep updating. I love this story too much to stop now. Don't worry. :)

So that's that. I also want to thank everyone who left me a review so far. I'm slightly overwhelmed by all the amazing positive feedback and the large number of reviews for the previous chapter (it's a large number for me!). I hope you'll continue to enjoy it as much as you do now! Virtual hugs to you all.

Now, without further ado, here's a new chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

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_**Chapter sixteen**_

_**Monday, 2 November 1998**_

"The patrol schedule is approved of," said Professor McGonagall with a sigh that indicated that she was rather tired. "You may distribute it amongst the prefects. And I would also like you to distribute _these_."

Draco sat across from the Headmistress, on the other side of the enormous claw-footed desk. He reached out and took the small pile of parchments from the old witch, briefly scanning them. "What are these, Professor?" he asked as politely as he could, avoiding looking at the portrait behind McGonagall at all times.

"Those are the schedules for the first grief counselling sessions for the last few sixth-years and the first half of seventh-years," answered McGonagall as she polished her glasses with an emerald-green handkerchief that matched the robes she was wearing today. She put them back on her nose and peered at him over the frame. "I have sorted the student body by year and then alphabetically on surname. The first sessions will take place in groups of four, after that it will be determined whether further counselling is needed, and those will be privately. It's all written down at the top."

He had absolutely dreaded this. Not only that, he had also completely forgotten about these stupid grief counselling sessions, and he mentally kicked himself for it. He didn't want to talk about the deaths of his aunt and one of his friends, or how they had affected him. Whose business was that, apart from his own?

"Alright, Professor," he muttered with a sigh. If the Headmistress had noticed his reluctant tone, she did a good job ignoring it. They briefly discussed a couple of incidents that had taken place over the week before after which Draco left the office and made his way downstairs. He had been excused from his curfew tonight to take care of some Head business since Granger had been – quite literally – forced to stay in bed with a bad cold. He strolled through the corridors, making his way to the prefect room on the third floor, where he would have a brief meeting.

His current relationship with Granger – if you could describe it like that – had become even more strained than before, and Draco was sure that neither of them had thought that to be a possibility. She seemed determined to ignore and avoid him. He had never truly hated the Gryffindor girl before, but right now he was quite sure that it was the only emotion left to describe what he felt for her. He couldn't recall another time when someone had talked to him the way she had, and he was ashamed to admit that her words had affected him far worse than he would have ever expected. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't get them out of his head.

Draco opened a door and walked into a rather small office-like room, which was already packed with prefects. He looked around and noticed that Pansy was still not present, and he sighed unhappily. "Good evening, of sorts," he greeted the students half-heartedly, receiving the same kind of greeting in return.

"Where's Hermione?" called fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect Orla Quirke.

"_Granger," _answered Draco irritably, refusing to refer to the Head Girl by her first name. "is in bed with the flu, and the being ever considerate person she is, she didn't want to infect all of you, so Professor McGonagall has given me the honour of leading this meeting."

A couple of prefects snorted. "You mean that the Headmistress had ordered her to stay in bed against her will and sent you because you're the second-best thing and _somewhat_ capable of handling Hermione's duties," said Jada Angela, sixth-year Gryffindor prefect.

_I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?_

Draco raised his eyebrows and gave the girl a cold look until her cheeks turned pink and she looked away. He sighed in annoyance. "I have the new patrol schedule with me as well as the counselling schedule for the remaining sixth-years and the seventh-years."

Several people sighed, seemingly having dreaded the grief counselling sessions as well, making him feel a little better now that he knew he wasn't alone. They discussed incidents that the prefects had noticed and taken care of and after that Draco started calling out names and handed the prefects the patrol schedules.

"Patil, Macmillan, if you could make sure the counselling schedules reach the bulletin boards in your common room, that'd be grand. Angela," he called brusquely, and the unfriendly Gryffindor girl's head snapped up, her cheeks still a little pink, but there was an unmistakable anger flickering in her eyes.

"You seem _somewhat capable_ of making sure this schedule reaches the Gryffindor common room, do you think you can handle that responsibility, or do you want me to ask your partner?" The girl huffed, stomped forward and snatched the schedule from his hand. "I'm _capable_, thank you very much," she grumbled.

_You're a horrible person who did horrible things._

"Very well, that's it, class dismissed," sneered Draco. "Greengrass, you're on patrol duty with me," he said, addressing the brunette in the back, who jumped off the table she had been sitting on and said her goodbyes to the other Slytherin prefects.

Viola Richmond slowed down as she neared him. "Thanks for taking care of that _thing_ with that… _thing,_" she said with a sly smile, motioning her head at an unsuspecting Graham Pritchard, the Slytherin prefect a year below her, who was walking in front of her. Draco smirked at her and gave her a small nod, knowing instantly that she referred to the change in patrol partnership.

"It's been ages since I've seen you in the dungeons," commented Astoria Greengrass once all the prefects had left the room. "How come you're hardly ever in the Slytherin common room anymore?"

Draco grimaced as he closed the door behind them and turned left. "One of the conditions for me to be allowed to come back this year. McGonagall has created a so-called Head's Tower where I have to stay with Granger so she can keep an eye on me. I have to go there immediately after dinner and only in the weekend I can stay out a bit longer."

Astoria frowned up at him. "Seriously? That's an odd… _condition_…"

"Yeah," sighed Draco. "It's quite the punishment for me to be locked up in a tower with Granger. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be Head Boy in the first place."

_I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?_

"For what it's worth, I think you're doing a good job," said the girl with a smile, which he returned without even thinking about it. They walked through the corridors in silence for a while, and Draco was surprised to discover that simply being around Astoria lightened up his mood in a way he couldn't explain and didn't understand, seeing as he barely knew her.

"At first I thought you had broken up with Pansy, judging by the miserable impression she made, but she assured me that wasn't the case. She then told me about the attacks. I think it's rather awful that people hold such grudges," said Astoria after a while, a frown on her brows. "I mean, of course what she did was wrong, but I'm pretty sure she has realised that herself a _long_ time ago."

Draco looked down at Astoria in surprise. "I didn't know you and Pansy are on speaking terms."

"You seem to forget who I am," snorted the brunette. "My sister is her best friend, remember? I've known Pansy since I was about nine or ten. She's almost like a second sister; she has been looking out for me just as much as Daphne has."

"That's cute. And how old are you now?" asked Draco with a smirk.

She looked up at him with twinkling eyes that seemed to wonder about his intentions. "Well, I've actually just turned sixteen a few days ago," she answered softly.

"Ah," he muttered. "I'm sorry to hear I've missed your birthday."

"Yeah," sighed Astoria, staring straight ahead. "It was a fun little party."

After about an hour of patrolling and some pleasant conversations they finally reached the ground floor and entered the Entrance Hall. Draco checked his wristwatch to discover that it was almost 9:30 p.m., which meant that it was time to lock the great oak doors and transfer the responsibility of patrolling the corridors to one of the Professors. Just as he raised his wand to seal the doors, one of them creaked open and a small silhouette sneaked inside.

"Weasley!" he barked, and the girl instantly froze. "It's well after curfew, where in Merlin's name have you been?"

The red-haired Gryffindor groaned and looked up at him with an annoyed expression on her face. She was dressed in her Quidditch gear and judging by the incredibly messy state of her hair she had flown around with quite some speed.

"Really, Malfoy," she sighed in annoyance. "You might want to have your eyes checked. Where do you _think_ I've been?" She made exaggerated gestures toward her outfit.

A giggle came from beside him and Draco looked next to him where Astoria was clearly trying to refrain from laughing. She caught his frown and shot him an apologetic look.

"By the way, wasn't it Hermione's turn to patrol the corridors?" asked Weasley grumpily.

"It was," sighed Draco, irritated by the fact that everyone seemed determined to bring up Granger tonight. "But she's still not feeling well and McGonagall ordered her to stay in bed."

Weasley muttered something under her breath he couldn't catch. "Well then," she said a bit louder, glaring up at him. "What's it going to be? Detention? A deduction of 20 house points? A detailed report for McGonagall? All of the above?"

_I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?_

Draco stared at her with his eyes narrowed. Despite her anger, the girl made quite a miserable impression, and for some reason he suddenly thought of Pansy. Without really thinking it through he sighed. "Just go, and try not to leave a mud trail," he said.

The Gryffindor girl's eyes widened and she stared at him with a completely baffled expression on her face, seemingly unable to comprehend what just happened.

"Weasley, I said _go_. Get out before I change my mind!" he snapped at her.

He didn't have to repeat himself. She instantly whirled around and hurried up the Marble Stairs, disappearing out of sight as quick as she could. The two Slytherins listened to the fading echo of Weasley's footsteps through the empty stone corridors, and then Draco turned around, waving his wand to seal the great oak doors.

"Let's go," he muttered, marching through the corridor to Professor Sprout's office.

"Why did you let her go like that?" asked Astoria, who was clearly confused as she hurried after him. "I know you don't like her, but you just had a legitimate reason to dock points, or worse, and you just let her go!"

Draco shrugged. "I'm tired; I just want to go to bed."

_You're a horrible person who did horrible things._

The younger girl didn't respond, and he suspected that she didn't believe him. He couldn't blame her; after all, it wasn't his true reason for letting Weasley off the hook. The problem was that he didn't really know why he had done it, but he feared it had something to do with Granger's words that constantly seemed to echo through his head.

Upon reaching the Herbology Professor's office, Draco knocked on the door and waited impatiently for it to open. After a little while, Professor Sprout appeared in the doorway, making a sleepy impression.

"Mr Malfoy, Ms Greengrass, thank you, I'll take it from here," she said as soon as she had closed the door behind her. "Mr Malfoy, have you sealed the doors?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very well. You may return to your dormitories. Please don't linger in the corridors. Good night," she said as she turned on her heel and departed. Draco and Astoria turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

"I'll walk you to the dungeons," he told the brunette.

"Don't be silly," she replied. "There's really no need."

"Greengrass, you have no idea how good it feels to be out of that damned Head's Tower for a night," he said in a drawl. "Please let me enjoy that feeling for a little longer."

_I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?_

The brunette smirked and shook her head. "Alright, alright. Whatever tickles your fancy."

They silently made their way back to the Entrance Hall and down the stone stairs that led to the dungeons. Soon they reached the wall that led to the Slytherin common room, and Astoria turned around, a small smile of amusement on her lips.

"Well, gentleman, thanks for walking me back," she said.

"At your service, Miss," smirked Draco. "Gentleman, hmm? Whatever happened to _dangerous fire-breathing reptile?"_

Astoria snorted and raised an eyebrow. "I was making fun of your name because you mocked my friend's name. I said you _didn't_ look much like one, you really should pay more attention to what people say around you."

"Blame the Ogden's Old," he shrugged carelessly. "Well, good night." He turned around to leave, but a warm hand grabbed his arm. Turning back, he shot a questioning look at the younger Slytherin girl.

"If you decide to spend next weekend down here, look for me, alright?" She smiled and turned, quickly muttering the password and slipping through the crack in the wall that briefly appeared to give access to the common room. Draco stared at the closing wall for several moments and then turned, making his way back to the Head's Tower, wondering about the younger Greengrass' behaviour.

X

"_Glumbumble,"_ he muttered once he stood in front of the Tower's entrance. The portrait slid to the left, and Draco made his way inside, yawning. He was greeted by the smell of chicken soup, and immediately his stomach began to grumble.

Upon entering the common room, he found Granger sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up against her chest, wrapped in her blanket and blowing on a spoon with the hot comfort food. Her eyes were red and watery, and her nose was quite red. She had made a poor effort to tie her hair up in a bun, and Draco noticed her infamous orange socks peeping out from underneath the blanket. She was sitting as close to the fire as the couch would allow, but still seemed to be cold.

"Granger," he said by means of a greeting, unable to keep a small smirk from his face. If she felt the way she looked, she must be feeling really terrible. "Don't you look… _charming."_

"Go away," came her grumpy and muffled response. The pronunciation of her words revealed that she had a sore throat and a blocked nose, and from the way she was glaring at him, he could tell that she was still angry with him, though the usual fierce flame in her eyes was reduced to a weak candle light.

This was the girl who had been driving him crazy for days now, whose words had been echoing through his head and made him question his every move, and Draco decided on the spot that he was going to take advantage of this moment of weakness. He sat down across from her and looked at her with amusement. "I quite like seeing you like this, actually," he said, watching how her cheeks reddened with anger.

"I'm sure," she grumbled, bringing the spoon with chopped leafy greens to her mouth.

"Aren't you a bit late catching colds? The epidemic has long passed and here you are, sniffing like you've got waterfalls coming from your nose, it's disgusting. Why aren't you down in the hospital wing drinking large amounts of Pepper-up Potion?" he sneered.

Granger sipped some more soup from the spoon and shot him a glare. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I really hope I'll infect you," she muttered darkly.

"Small chance, I've felt off during the epidemic, but I had the good sense of immediately visiting Madam Pomfrey, so there's no way you could infect me. But please, _do_ keep your filthy germs away from me."

As though on purpose, Granger hurriedly put the bowl of soup on the coffee table, brought her hands up to her face and sneezed three times, hilariously screwing up her face in the process. She pulled out a blue handkerchief from underneath her blanket and blew her nose, sniffing weakly as she folded the fabric and put it away again.

"Gross," muttered Draco, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"No one is forcing you to stay here," snapped the Head Girl weakly as she reached for her soup again. She shivered, hugged the blanket closer and quickly brought another spoonful of soup and vegetables to her mouth.

"Actually, I wanted to have a word," he replied, the amusement from seeing her like this quickly ebbing away to be replaced with annoyance almost instantly. "About last week."

"I've got nothing to say to you," she groaned.

He snorted scornfully. "I've got quite some things to say to you, though. Like how you completely overreacted about Pansy being here."

"And we have to discuss this _now?!"_

"I don't see why not."

"Maybe because I'm not feeling very well right now?!" came Granger's irritable response. She finished her soup after spooning a bit more of the liquid food into her mouth and put the bowl down onto the table with a bit more force than she had probably intended. She squeezed her eyes shut at the clattering sound of the spoon against the bowl and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself.

"You know, Granger," said Draco as he stared at the girl across from the coffee table with a look of disinterest. "It rather annoys me that you always seem to be allowed to say the worst things to me, but when I return the favour, you cross every line and suddenly the meaning of being fair has completely disappeared from your mind. I wonder who decided that you were the one making up all the rules, but I highly doubt it was a neutral voter."

The Head Girl had pulled the blanket up to her eyes, and the big brown orbs glared at him. "Careful, Malfoy, you wouldn't want to give me the impression that my opinion actually means something to you, would you?"

"What if it does?" he grumbled without thinking, immediately regretting it.

It remained silent for a while. Draco eyed her warily and found it difficult to read the little parts of her face that were visible. "That would make very little sense," she answered finally. "And I would recommend you to explain yourself."

"You really seem to think that I can't get hurt."

Granger sniffed in an attempt to keep her nose from running. "I think you're able to feel insulted, but that's where your feelings seem to end."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snapped at her, narrowing his eyes as he watched how she grabbed the handkerchief to blow her nose once more.

She frowned and lowered the blue fabric a little. "Don't sound so shocked. You're a plain bully who is unable to feel compassion. You completely shut down every bit of that emotion. If you refuse to care or understand that you hurt other people, how can you possibly feel hurt yourself?"

Draco abruptly rose from the chair and glared down at her, vaguely registering that he didn't intimidate her as much as he would have liked. "You think I like it when I hear what everyone's saying about me?" he snarled. "You think I like to hear that I'm a horrible person? That I like it when people call me a coward? You think that I like to be reminded of this?" He yanked his left sleeve up, revealing his Dark Mark.

Granger lowered her eyes and broke off their eye contact to look at the faded black skull on his forearm. After a few long seconds, she looked up at him again. "Ah… So it does hurt, doesn't it?" she said softly. "To be condemned for something you are and can't change?"

He slowly lowered his sleeve again as he sank back down on the chair, realising she had cornered him, that she had tricked him into exposing his feelings to her.

"For years you've tormented everyone you considered inferior, and suddenly it happens to _you_ and suddenly everyone is crossing lines," she continued scornfully. "How many times have you said nasty things about Harry's parents? That was _so_ funny, wasn't it? Remember when he said something back about _your _parents one time? You went _completely_ crazy and the Hogwarts castle was suddenly too small for the pair of you. How many times have you said nasty things about me for being Muggleborn? I mention your pitiful choices and your situation and _I'm_ the one crossing lines? You should really grow up, you're the definition of hypocrisy."

"Choices?!" snapped Draco furiously. "_Choices?!_ I didn't _have_ any choices!"

"Everyone has choices!" snapped Granger back hoarsely. "There is _always_ a choice! Your problem is that you've been so indoctrinated with your parents' beliefs that you never even considered that their decisions might not be the best. They made it out to be something fantastic, and you blindly took their word for it. But then, after having talked the talk for so long, you're asked to walk it, and suddenly you have to think for yourself, and _suddenly_ your decision wasn't as attractive as you thought it was!"

"You have no idea what I've been through and whether or not I had a choice!"

"That's what you hope, but I'm pretty sure I'm actually quite close to the truth. You're welcome to tell me your side of the story, though."

He glared at her for several long seconds, breathing heavily with anger. "He was going to kill them," he choked out. "What was I supposed to do, leave them behind? _Let_ him kill them?"

"Malfoy," sighed Granger tiredly. "It's not about what you've done or attempted to do when you were cornered. It's about what got you there in the first place. We all know you were born on the wrong side of the fence, so to speak, but it were your _choices_ that made you who you are today. You followed your father's decisions in being loyal only to those who were, in your eyes, on the winning side. The side that would be most profitable to you in the long run. _You_ chose wrong."

"You make it all sound_ so _ easy," spat Draco, disgusted by her observations and comments. "You don't just leave your family behind simply because it's the right thing to do. People don't actually do that."

"Some people do," she countered softly. "You should ask your aunt Andromeda about it."

"She's not my aunt," he snapped immediately.

"Just because she's burned off the family tree doesn't mean she's not your mother's sister anymore," came her annoyingly logical retort. "Look, it doesn't matter, all I'm trying to say is, yes, you have suffered in this War. But so has the rest of us. And you just so happen to have played a quite significant part in this War, on the wrong side, and your actions caused suffering and you _know_ that. Stop hiding behind this façade of ignorance and start acknowledging your faults. Try to relate to people."

He let out a mirthless laugh. "Who do you want me to relate to? Why should I be the one who needs to relate to people? It's not like people relate to _me_ either."

"You're such a child!" snapped Granger. "Stop pretending like you went through something no one else can possibly understand! In case you forgot, I happen to understand perfectly fine what you had to face! My parents were facing mortal danger as well, and just like you, it was because of something that wasn't even my fight to begin with. You were involved as a punishment for your father's failures, I was involved simply because I happen to be one of Harry Potter's best friends. Both our families were in danger and their fate rested on both our shoulders. I understand the constant fear, I've lived through it too!"

Draco stared at the slightly upset Gryffindor girl with a hollow feeling in his chest. He knew that was she was saying was true, and for the first time he felt slightly more comfortable acknowledging that she saw through his façade, and that she truly understood how he was feeling. The way she described the situation made perfect sense, and it was exactly how he had experienced it. He opened his mouth a few times just to shut it again instantly. He simply didn't know what to say.

"It won't hurt you to allow yourself to feel compassion every once in a while, you know," said Granger softly after a lengthy silence. "I know you're a proud person, but compassion is not a sign of weakness, and when people are being compassionate towards you they're not pitying you. The War may be over but we're far from fine, and you would make it all a lot easier if you could just… stop being so determined to hide behind what you've done wrong."

"Well," said Draco quietly. "It's not like I've done much good."

"A wise man once said that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be," commented the Head Girl hoarsely, wiping her nose with the blue handkerchief. "And if he thought you were a lost case, you wouldn't be here. But you have to stop hiding behind your past. If you don't want to be better, you won't be, it's simple as that."

"Nothing is ever that simple," he argued stubbornly. He desperately wanted to get back into a comfortable place where they didn't have understandings and similar struggles, but he knew that place was long gone. He still hated the way she could trick him into exposing himself, the way she dared to talk to him. In many ways she was still the same insufferable Gryffindor she'd always been, but he knew his feelings for her had changed around a month ago. He had developed a certain amount of respect for her, and he wasn't sure how to deal with that. He also wasn't sure how to handle the fact that she seemed to understand him better than anyone else. It unnerved him.

Granger stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her like a cape. "I'd say it's worth a shot," she said with another weak sniff. "I'm off to bed now. Good night."

"Night," replied Draco in a grumble as he watched her shamble through the room and up the stairs. Once she had disappeared out of view, he closed his eyes and let out a long string of air, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he had just opened up to Granger, of all people, in ways he had never opened up to anyone else, as well as the fact that she actually understood him.

The world had officially gone mad.

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A/N: Your reviews make me happy, so please let me know what you think! :)

Quick request: If you want to talk to me about my announcement in the author's note at the top, please send me a PM. I'd rather not have the reviews cluttered up with things that aren't directly related to the storyline, you know? :) Thanks for being amazing. Seriously.


	17. Chapter seventeen

A/N: Well, that wasn't such a long wait after all, was it? This chapter is actually rather long as well, my longest so far. It lacks a bit of Draco/Hermione interaction, but I hope you understand that in order for this story to be somewhat realistic, I can't jump from one interaction into the next. Other things should happen as well, otherwise this story is going to be awfully boring. At least, in my eyes. And I'm the author, so... :)

I hope it's not _too_ long for your taste. I tried shortening it, but that didn't really work well, so I'm just keeping it like this. Should the next update take me longer than I hope, at least I'll feel less guilty cause I didn't give you a super short chapter. I reckon you should survive on this for a while!

So yeah. Enjoy and happy reading! See you... soon, I hope.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

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_**Chapter seventeen**_

_**Tuesday, 3 November 1998**_

Hermione let out a desperate sigh as she shot a glare at the three snapped hair elastics in the sink in front of her. She looked up at the mirror and a grumpy girl with an enormous bushy mass of hair glared back at her. It was quite obvious that she hadn't brushed her hair for the past three days. She had, after all, spent the majority of those days in bed.

She sighed again and bend down, opening the cabinet underneath the sink, searching through the bottles of shampoo and conditioner and perfume that were stored in there. In the back she discovered the bottle she was looking for. It hadn't been used in a long time, and the purple-and-green label was laced with a thin layer of dust, but the bright orange letters that spelled _Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment_ were still readable. The bottle was half empty, but there was enough left for bad hair-day emergencies like today.

As she used a generous amount of the potion, Hermione watched how her frizzy mass of hair turned into nice, soft and, most importantly, manageable curls, and she sighed once more. Over the past few years, she had used the hair potion only a few times before on days like this, when her hair was an absolute disaster, but just like before it made her feel a little uncomfortable. It always made her feel a bit pretentious.

People always noticed the change immediately. It was, after all, rather difficult to _not_ notice the big change. It always reminded them of when she had appeared at the Yule Ball as Viktor Krum's date, and it meant that people would be talking about it again. It wasn't that the event in question wasn't worth remembering, because it had been a great evening, at least until Ron had ruined most of it. Somehow, people always immediately seemed to associate her tamed curls with a date, and given the fact that she had no idea what was going on between her and Ron, she didn't think she was prepared for another week of gossip.

After finally being able to successfully brush her hair, Hermione exited the bathroom, shouldered her bag and descended the stairs, tying her hair up in a ponytail in the meantime. She entered the common room the same time Malfoy did, and she immediately slowed down. The uncomfortable atmosphere from yesterday evening was back instantly, and she saw right away that he felt it too.

"Good morning," she muttered.

"Morning," he replied with some reluctance, studying her with a small frown. "You look… well… better than you did yesterday."

"That's not difficult," said Hermione curtly. "It's hardly possible to look worse."

Much to her surprise, Malfoy didn't confirm nor deny her statement. He let her leave the common room first and followed closely behind. They made their way downstairs in silence, and upon reaching the Great Hall, Malfoy muttered "See you in class," before quickly walking to the Slytherin table. Hermione walked up to Ginny, Trev, Ritchie, Jennifer, Seamus and Dean and seated herself between Trev and Jennifer, across from Ginny.

"Good morning," she greeted them, pouring herself some tea, receiving a similar greeting in return.

"Feeling better?" asked Ginny with a small smile.

Hermione nodded as she scooped some poached egg, bacon, buttered toast and some slices of tomato onto her plate. "Good enough for a full day of class," she said. "What about you? You look tired."

"Couldn't sleep," shrugged the redhead, clearly indicating that she would rather change subjects. "So, one of those days, I'm guessing?" she asked, pointing at her own hair as she motioned her head at Hermione's.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I haven't brushed it days, it was impossible to get through."

"It's so… shiny," said Jennifer softly, reaching out to touch a string of curls. "And so _soft..."_

Hermione grimaced uncomfortably and then noticed the pieces of parchment each of them was holding. "What's this?" she asked, glancing at Trev's piece, determining that it was some sort of schedule.

"Grief counselling schedule," muttered Ginny with clear reluctance. "Most sixth-years have already had it, but Trev is scheduled for today and Pauline and me are scheduled for tomorrow. I talked to Luna earlier, and she's scheduled in the same group as Trev. I don't want to _do_ this," she added in a desperate tone, softly whimpering.

"It's not that bad, Ginny," said Jennifer softly. "The woman is really kind, and the first counsel is not that personal. It's more of an introduction."

"And she is a professional," added Dean with a confirming nod. "Her name's Tristitia Medens, and from what I've heard, she's one of the best grief counsellors in Europe."

"Yeah, me mam says she helped a lot of people after the First War and the Global War. She has set up this new ward in St. Mungo's I've heard, to help people move on," said Seamus, waving around his fork with a piece of sausage as he spoke, sending drops of gravy around the table.

Hermione shot a quick glance at Ginny and saw that her younger friend had withdrawn herself from the conversation. She was poking her fork around through her scrambled eggs and stared at the table with unseeing eyes, most probably thinking of George, who was staying in the ward Seamus had just described.

"I heard the fifth-year Gryffindors didn't take their session too well," said Trev softly. "Mary and Anna were crying all the way through and Romilda went hysterical and had to be carried out by Kevin and Darrel from Hufflepuff. Madam Pomfrey forced Calming Draught down her throat and she had to stay the night."

The group of Gryffindors went silent for a while. Julie Parkes, who would have been a fifth-year by now, and had been in the same year as the girls Trev mentioned, was brutally murdered along with her family during the Easter holidays last year. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to rid the image of Julie's gravestone from her mind. _Gone, but not forgotten,_ it had said. The young girl was buried in Godric's Hollow, and Hermione had seen her gravestone while searching for Harry's parents' grave. Because of her young age, she had never really talked to Julie while at Hogwarts, and while her name had been familiar, Hermione hadn't realised who she was until a few weeks ago.

She was pulled from her thoughts when an envelope landed on her plate. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Hermione removed the parchment from her breakfast and tried not to touch the side that had fallen on top of the buttered toast. She turned it over, took out the letter and gasped when she recognised the messy handwriting.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I reckon you're probably quite angry with me by now, and I guess I can't blame you for that. I know I've been a lousy… friend… lately, and trust me when I say that Harry takes every opportunity to rub that in, and even Neville has mentioned it once or twice._

_Things at the Ministry are tough, but there's some progress and Robards says he's pleased with our work so far. The recruitment is going slow so we still haven't been able to go after the bad guys because there are not enough Aurors left. _

_Even though I'm doing okay now, I never seem to learn, do I? It's been so hard for me to admit that I was feeling bloody awful, and I guess I let my pride get in the way. I'm so sorry for pushing you away, and for not being there for you. I feel horrible about missing your birthday…_

_I miss you, Hermione. I really do. I know you've got a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, and I would really like to see you. Please don't be mad. I'll make it up to you. _

_Give Ginny a hug from me._

_Love,_

_Ron_

"Who's it from? Is it Ron? Please tell me it's from Ron!" exclaimed Ginny as soon as Hermione looked up.

Hermione nodded disbelievingly. "It's from Ron..."

"That ignorant little dung beetle," snarled the redhead. "It's about bloody time!"

The others wisely remained quiet. Hermione could tell that Jennifer wanted to say something about her friend's foul language with which she described her brother, but decided against it, most probably remembering Thelma's encounter with the Bad-Bogey Hex. Hermione passed the letter on to Ginny, who quickly read it and snorted mockingly at Ron's request to Hermione about giving her a hug, muttering dark nothings under her breath.

Soon after the group rose from the benches, grabbing bags and last-minute addings to their breakfast to consume on the way to the classroom, parting ways in the Entrance Hall. Seamus and Dean made their way up to the Gryffindor Tower while Ginny, Jennifer and Trev made their way to the greenhouses. Hermione caught up with Stephen and Anthony and joined their conversation about the current state of their Polyjuice Potions, pushing Ron's letter to the back of her mind. She couldn't use the distraction today, not after missing an entire day of class.

"I missed you at the prefects meeting yesterday," commented Anthony. "Malfoy said something about you being ill."

"Yes," sighed Hermione. "The epidemic realised that it had skipped me, so it surprised me with a belated cold."

Stephen snorted. "How thoughtful of it. Don't worry, though, you didn't miss that much yesterday. I think Padma has collected your homework. We'll tell her that you're better so she can give it to you after lunch."

"That would be great, thanks," she said, gratefully smiling at her classmates. They entered the Potions classroom and Hermione joined Malfoy and Greengrass at their table. Professor Slughorn announced that everyone was on schedule and the students continued the brewing.

"Right," said Greengrass curtly as she opened her book and scanned the page. "Where were we?"

"Part one, step five," answered Hermione immediately. "We have to add four leeches to the potion now and add two scoops of lacewing flies to the mortar, crush it to a fine powder, then add two measures of the crushed lacewings to the cauldron. So, Malfoy, if you add the leeches, and Greengrass, if you crush and add the flies, I'll prepare the bicorn horn, which has to be added afterwards."

The two Slytherins did not move and they glared at her with raised eyebrows. She sighed and closed her eyes in frustration. "Please?" They both smirked and started moving. Greengrass made her way to the ingredient cabinet for the lacewings. Hermione rolled her eyes and took out her mortar, after which she stood up to get some bicorn horn.

"Malfoy, when Greengrass has added the crushed lacewing flies to the cauldron, will you please heat it for thirty seconds on low temperature and complete this stage?"

The blond boy looked up with an annoyed look in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow and pointed at his book, sighing dramatically. "I can read, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes again and copied Greengrass' move, making her way to the ingredient cabinet. She took some bicorn horn and made her way back, adding it to her mortar, starting to crush it to a fine powder. After a while Greengrass added the lacewings powder to the potion and Malfoy poked his wand underneath the cauldron, lighting a little fire as he stared intently at his wristwatch to keep track of the time. After half a minute, he removed his wand, extinguishing the fire again.

"How many measures of boomslang skin again?" muttered the blonde Slytherin girl as she peered at the instructions in her book.

"Three," answered Malfoy inattentive, waving his wand above the cauldron to complete the first brewing stage at the same time. Greengrass prepared the measures and stirred the potion clockwise as Hermione finished crushing the bicorn horn. After the blonde girl added the measures of boomslang skin, Hermione added one measure of the powdered horn to the cauldron and motioned to get Malfoy's attention.

"Twenty seconds, high temperature. Then wrap it up."

After shooting a glare in her direction for bossing him around, he once again poked his wand underneath the cauldron and lit an unnecessarily violent fire for twenty seconds. He then waved his wand, and the thick, disgusting-looking brown potion started to bubble slowly, very much resembling mud.

Greengrass moved her index finger through the written lines. "Copper cauldron… Copper cauldron…" she muttered, searching for the next instruction. "Ah, here it is. It has to brew for eighteen hours," she said a bit louder before sighing dramatically. "So now what?"

Hermione checked her wristwatch. "Only ten more minutes left. In 18 hours we have to stir the potion three times, anti-clockwise. It should be finished next class."

"Good," grumbled the Slytherin girl.

The bell chimed, and the students headed to their next class.

X

_**Saturday, 7 November 1998**_

"Ginny," said Hermione as she gently shook her friend. "Ginny, wake up."

The redhead made an annoyed mumbling sound and turned over on her other side, pulling the blanket up to cover her head. Despite feeling extremely nervous, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Ginny," she repeated a bit louder. "Wake up you lazy, it's almost 9 a.m."

"Wazzemadder?" mumbled the youngest Weasley sleepily, sounding uncannily like Ron.

"I need you," said Hermione softly. "Come on, get up."

"Couple more minutes," the girl protested.

"No, you'll fall asleep again."

"Fine," sighed Ginny grumpily, dramatically kicking the blankets back. "But just remember that I'm going to get back at you for this."

She smiled and rose, making her way back to the door. "I know, trust me, I know."

X

"Okay," said Ginny, who still wasn't completely awake. They sat at the Gryffindor table in a nearly empty Great Hall. The younger Gryffindor held a mug of coffee between her hands and took small sips. "So you two are having a date, then?"

"No!" exclaimed Hermione. "I haven't seen him in months, and I have no idea what's going on between us anymore. There won't be any _dating_ until he explained himself. We need to catch up first."

The redhead nodded approvingly. "That's good. Where are you two meeting?"

"The Three Broomsticks," she answered.

"He's expecting you to be angry. Are you?"

Hermione took her time replying. "I don't know," she admitted. "On the one hand I understand what he's going through, but on the other hand... You're all hurting. _We're_ all hurting. And I can't help but feel like he has neglected me. And Harry. And all of you."

"He has," agreed Ginny softly. "But like you, on the one hand we understand. In the end we all grief differently, don't we? We can only hope that it gets better with time. And he came back before, didn't he? You gave him a second chance back then. I think he deserves a second chance now."

"I wouldn't be meeting him today if I didn't think he deserved one," she answered. "I miss him more than I'm angry with him, but I've been there before, and last time I didn't exactly welcome him back with open arms."

"Look, Hermione, you don't have to explain yourself to me. He's my brother, and I love him very much, but I also know better than anyone else what an insufferable and insensitive arse he can be," said Ginny seriously. "I guess it's a guy thing. Harry is hardly better in many ways."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "I'll never understand boys."

Ginny smiled. "And they will never understand us."

X

As she neared Hogsmeade, Hermione felt that she was getting more and more nervous, and she didn't quite understand why. This was _Ron_ of all people. One of her very best friend for years and years now. The boy she loved with all her heart. The person she had been through so much with.

Despite the fact that she was excited to see him, she also found that her conversation with Ginny had made her reflect on the times Ron had turned to poor judgement and hurtful actions. She could forgive most of his falling-outs during their childhood, but it still stung that he had left Harry and her behind during the search for Horcruxes, and she still couldn't look past the hurt by his continuous silence over the past few months.

Feeling a little betrayed and sad, Hermione opened the door of the Three Broomsticks Inn and entered the slightly smoky pub, grateful for the inviting warmth that greeted her as soon as she entered and closed the door behind her, shutting out the cold and windy Autumn morning. She looked around, and the moment she spotted the oh so familiar fiery red hair in a corner, all her negative thoughts vanished instantly and she couldn't keep the broad smile from her face.

Ron was looking around the pub, making a slightly nervous impression as well. When his blue eyes found her, still standing by the door, a smile appeared on his face and his eyes started to twinkle. He stood up, and Hermione ran forward.

When he had returned to them in the Forest of Dean, she had flung herself forward and hit him in every possible spot, angry and upset with him for abandoning them when they had needed him most. She had been so afraid to lose her temper and repeat that very moment now, but instead she found herself throwing her arms around Ron's neck, hugging him so tightly that he gasped for air before taking her in his arms.

"Hey, Hermione," he murmured in her hair as he held her close.

She let go of him after a lengthy hug and leaned back, staring into his blue eyes. "You come back after all this time, and you say _hey?" _she said with slight sarcasm, repeating the words she'd said when he had returned during the Horcrux hunt.

Ron's ears turned slightly red in embarrassment and he looked away for a moment. "I remember you had a difficult time forgiving me back then," he said softly. "And I don't have a destroyed Horcrux this time."

"Doesn't matter," she muttered. "It wasn't good enough, anyway."

"I have something in mind that might be," he whispered in return, and as soon as he had said that he leaned in and pressed his lips on hers. Slightly taken aback for a moment, Hermione remained motionless for a couple of seconds, shocked at this unexpected public display of affection, but she soon relaxed. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, making sure to let him know how much she had missed him.

After several long seconds they let go of each other, smiling shyly at each other. Hermione sat down across from Ron, only barely remembering that this wasn't supposed to be a date, and that he had quite some explaining to do first. Ron tried to get Madam Rosmerta's attention so they could order, and finally the curvy woman made her way towards them.

"Wasn't sure I'd be seeing you lot back here so soon," she greeted them with a genuine smile. "Is Harry Potter joining you, too?"

"Nah," said Ron, blushing slightly. "It's just us two. Harry's at the Ministry, they couldn't miss him for the day."

The pretty-faced landlady nodded in understanding. "They must be relying on him a lot in there, he's after all the one who did what no one thought possible," she said. "Anyway, what brings you here, then?"

"I'm back at Hogwarts," answered Hermione. "I wanted to go back to finish my last year and graduate."

"And I'm visiting her for the day," answered Ron.

"Well, I won't be bothering you any longer then!" exclaimed Madam Rosmerta. "What can I get you two?"

"I'll have a Cornish breakfast, please," said Ron without even touching the menu.

Hermione scanned through the many different breakfast meals. "I'll have fried eggs with bacon, fried mushrooms, fried tomatoes and toast with butter, please," she said finally.

"Coffee or tea?" asked the landlady as she wrote down the order.

"Tea, please" they answered at the same time.

Madam Rosmerta left to get their food and drinks. Ron looked after her, clearly still having a soft spot for the blonde woman. Instead of being bothered by that, like it had before, Hermione used this time in which he was distracted to have a good look at him.

Ron's hair was trimmed and no longer looked messy and dirty like it had for the majority of last year. The dark circles under his eyes were gone too, and he made a healthy impression, but Hermione knew him well enough to see that he didn't get as much sleep as he needed. He was wearing dark jeans and a red checkered loggers blouse. He looked good, she concluded.

"So," said Ron finally. "I heard you're Head Girl. I'm far from surprised, but I'm proud. Congratulations."

"Thanks," she smiled. "How are you, Ron?"

"Good," he shrugged. "Keeping myself busy. It's mad at the Ministry, but Shacklebolt is a great Minister. I hope they're keeping him, he has some brilliant plans to get the Ministry back up and running efficiently. It's been rumoured that he wants to ban the use of Dementors in Azkaban."

"Well, about time," said Hermione indignantly. "They're untrustworthy and the way they affect the prisoners is simply inhumane and turns them into an even bigger threat if they ever leave Azkaban."

"Hmm, I never thought of it like that," muttered Ron thoughtfully. "But I suppose you're right, of course."

Madam Rosmerta came back with their food and drinks and they remained silent, taking in the lovely smells that rose from the plates. Ron instantly brought a spoonful of egg to his mouth and closed his eyes, enjoying the food as only Ron could.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, using her fork and knife to reduce her food to manageable pieces. They ate in silence for a while, something Hermione preferred as Ron had the tendency to talk with his mouth still full, and she would rather avoid feeling revolted, especially now she hadn't seen him in a while.

"How's Neville?" she asked after swallowing some mushroom and egg.

"Pwetty guwd," answered Ron as he chewed on a potato cake. He quickly swallowed and washed his food away with some tea, shooting an apologetic look at Hermione, who was giving him disgusted glances. "Last year has definitely done him good, sometimes we simply forget it's Neville, he has developed quite some self-confidence, it's brilliant. Some Ministry bloke came to observe our weekly training the other day, and he told Neville that he reminded him of Frank Longbottom, you should've seen his face, bright red he was."

"That's really all he ever lacked, self-confidence," nodded Hermione, happy to hear that her friend was doing well. "Has he mentioned that he has visited Luna during the summer?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, he did tell us that. Apparently old Xeno Lovegood asked him the weirdest questions."

They laughed and moved on to other subjects, filling each other in on things they had missed. Ron talked some more about his activities at the Ministry and the trainings, and Hermione talked about things she had learned from their friends at school. She told him about Dean's father and Ginny meeting one of her Quidditch idols. She talked about the grief counsel sessions, about the new Professors and her classes and Head Girl duties. Madam Rosmerta came over to collect their empty plates and provided both with a large glass of butterbeer.

"So who's the Head Boy this year, anyway?" asked Ron good-naturedly and unsuspecting. Hermione put her butterbeer with ginger-essence down at once, giving him a confused look.

"Harry didn't tell you?"

"No," he shrugged. "I don't recall him ever bringing it up. Why?"

"Why do I always have to be the messenger?" she grumbled, making a mental note to send a flock of canaries at Harry's face next time.

Ron but down his butterbeer as well and looked at her with a slightly concerned look. "What's going on, what did I miss?"

"It's Malfoy," she sighed, dreading his response. "Malfoy's the new Head Boy."

As she had anticipated, the conversation went silent and Ron's blue eyes stared at her in confusion, accusation and anger. "What?!" he managed to choke out. "Is this a joke?"

"No, it's not a joke, Ron, please keep your voice down," said Hermione quietly, noticing from the corner of her eye that a few people were turning their heads to look at them.

"Keep my voice down? I can't believe you're so calm about all this! The foul git doesn't even deserve to be back at Hogwarts, so don't even get me started on this… this…"

"Ron!" snapped Hermione. "I've had little over _two months_ to wrap my head around this," she continued a bit more quiet. "Do you honestly think I was okay with it at first?"

"Are you okay with it now, then?"

"Oh come on, I really thought you knew me by now. I don't like it, no, but it is what it is. I can't really do much about it, can I?"

The grumpy redhead gulped down his butterbeer and took a couple of silver Sickles from his pocket, forcefully putting them on the table to pay for his consumptions. Hermione copied his move and dug her pockets for some coins as well. They rose from their chairs and waved Madam Rosmerta goodbye before leaving the warm pub.

Once outside they made their way further into Hogsmeade down the High Street, passing Zonko's and Honeydukes. They walked past Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and turned the corner after Scrivenshaft's Quill shop.

"So what's the genius explanation behind this ridiculous idea? It has Dumbledore written all over it," grumbled Ron.

Hermione sighed. "Look, we all know Malfoy's not entirely evil—"

"—my arse he's not…"

"—and Dumbledore wanted to motivate him to do better by appointing him Head Boy. It also gives McGonagall the opportunity to keep him in check, because he has certain responsibilities now and because of his position he can't misbehave, or he'll be thrown out. I have to monitor him and keep a weekly report, and it actually seems to be working, to an extent."

Ron snorted indignantly. "So what, you're his babysitter now?"

"Yes Ron, Lucius Malfoy pays me a generous amount of Galleons every month so I can keep an eye his precious only son," snapped Hermione sarcastically, annoyed with the redhead's childish attitude.

He tried to cover up a laugh by coughing. Hermione shot him a glare before entering the Hogsmeade Post Office where she paid for the delivery services of a Great Grey Owl to quickly deliver a box of Peppermint Toads and Toothflossing Springmints to her parents. When she made her way outside again, Ron was standing in front of Gladrags Wizardwear, staring at a bright orange set of dress robes that perfectly matched the colour of his hair through the large shop window. They leisurely made their way to the outskirts of the village and sat down on the fence that separated Hogsmeade from the Shrieking Shack, their backs turned to the abandoned house.

"So who is your snake spy?"

"Sorry, what?" said Hermione, looking up at him in confusion.

"Your spy," repeated Ron impatiently. "If you have to keep an eye on Malfoy all the time, I expect him to be down in the dungeons all the time so he doesn't have to be around you. That's what I would do, anyway. You're not the brightest witch of the age for nothing, you get around stuff like that."

"Ron… That's not how this thing works," she uttered weakly, knowing his temper would get the better of him if she told him that she had to share separate living quarters with the guy he hated with his entire being. "Besides, I don't want to spend our time together discussing Malfoy. I won't see you again until Christmas, let's not waste our time like this."

For a moment it looked as though he was going to protest, but after a few long seconds he just sighed. "Fine," he grumbled.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their view of the picturesque little village of cottages and shops and the beautiful agile violin sounds that came from Dominic Maestro's Music Shop. Hermione wanted to stay in this moment forever, but she once again reminded herself that she shouldn't treat this like a date.

"I would like to talk to you about something," she forced herself to say.

Ron looked down at her in slight concern. "About what?"

"About… the past few months…"

He looked away, suddenly making an exhausted impression. "I've messed up, haven't I?" he uttered.

She took his hand and squeezed it in an attempt to comfort him. "I wouldn't say it like that," she said softly. "But you have to realise that this is the second time in a few months that you've left me hanging in a time in which I really needed you. I know the past few months have been hard, but you _know_ that I understand how you feel. And you can't keep shutting everyone out, Ron, you can't keep running from things."

"I know I'm not good at making the right decisions," answered Ron quietly. "Especially not when emotions are involved. I don't know how to handle all these feelings. I know a few months ago wasn't just the Horcrux's fault, it just… magnified the insecurity and jealousy and doubt that I had been feeling all along. I had just hidden it beneath everything else. And what happened in May…" He sniffed and rubbed the underside of his nose with his left sleeve, taking a deep breath. "I'm just… I was in such a bad place, and I don't want to go back there, Hermione, I can't go back there. I need to stay busy. I don't know how else to cope."

"I know, Ron," she whispered. "I understand. I loved Fred too, and he was like family to me too. I know how large the hole is that he's leaving behind, it hurts me too. But you can't neglect the people that are still here for someone who is not, and won't come back. I know how hard it is, I really do, but you have to give it a place and move forward. You can't keep ignoring it."

"But I can't be here for you if I'm the one that has to heal first."

Hermione smiled sadly through her tears. "We can't move forward if you remain stuck in one place."

He stared at her with pain evident in his blue eyes. "Are you saying you… don't want to be with me anymore?" he whispered hoarsely.

"No, Ron, I'm not," she said forcefully, squeezing his hand again. "But this is not the right time. We can't rush this, especially not after months of silence."

He took another deep breath. "Blimey, this is not how I expected today to unfold," he admitted softly. "But you're right. I shouldn't have been so stupid to avoid everyone these past few months. I just… I thought I was doing the right thing by not burdening everyone with my… feelings."

"We're all feeling that same grief, Ron," murmured Hermione. "Everyone is hurt in the same ways, we just express it differently. But you should have known that we would have gotten through this together. That's what the rest of your family has been doing, that's what Harry and I have been doing. We were in this together, we've always been in this together."

"I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

She jumped off the fence and turned back to look at him, touching his knee. "Don't remain stuck in the past, Ron," she repeated. "Let's not linger on what you've done, let's focus on how you go from here."

Ron jumped off the fence as well. "All right," he said, searching his pocket and fishing out a little black box. "Here, a belated birthday gift," he mumbled shyly, handing it to her.

Hermione took the little box, her hands trembling slightly. She had not expected this. She slowly opened it and gasped. Inside she found a shiny fragile-looking silver necklace with a tiny glass orb pendant. Carefully taking the necklace from the box, she examined the orb and gasped again.

"It's snowing inside!" she exclaimed. Inside the tiny glass orb, tiny speckles of white slowly moved around, glittering in the light of the faint November sun. "Oh Ron, where did you get this? It must have been expensive!"

He took the necklace from her and motioned for her to turn around. Hermione took her hair, keeping the bushy mass up so Ron could close the necklace around her neck.

"I remembered something you told me once. Sixth year I think, Harry must have been at Dumbledore's for background class on You-Know-Who… And you explained to me where your name came from, remember?"

She nodded, remembering that particular evening. They had been bickering about Ron's Potions essay, which had been horribly incomplete and badly written. At one point he had childishly mocked her unusual name, and after cooling down he had sheepishly asked her where her name came from.

"And you told me about this book your mother loves so much," continued Ron. "Written by this snake spear guy—"

Hermione burst out laughing. "Shakespeare, Ron! His name was William Shakespeare."

"Whatever," he muttered, his ears turning slightly red. "But I thought it was cool that your mother chose your name from her favourite play. I saw this and it reminded me of the Winter's Tale, and I thought you might like it."

"I love it, Ron," she said honestly. "It's perfect. I can't believe you remembered all this, though."

"I listen sometimes," he mumbled.

She smiled and embraced him. He put his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. They stood there like that for a while until Hermione slowly and carefully moved away from him.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go find the rest. I'm sure everyone is dying to see you."

"Everyone? Even Ginny?"

"Even Ginny," she confirmed with a small smile.

They made their way back to the Three Broomsticks. Ron opened the door and let her enter first. They spotted Ginny, Luna, Seamus and Dean at the bar, all staring at the table in the corner where she and Ron had met up earlier. Madam Rosmerta was standing next to the table, her hands resting on her hips.

"—so I will repeat myself one last time," she barked. "You are not welcome here. Do you need help finding the door or are you able to manage yourself?"

"Fine, _fine_, I'll go," snapped an unpleasantly familiar voice. Malfoy and Parkinson rose from their chairs and moved past the angry landlady, who was glaring after Malfoy. Once the two Slytherins caught sight of Ron, they slowed down.

"_Weaselbee_," sneered Malfoy softly. "How lovely to see you back here."

"Get out of my sight, you cowardly two-faced son of a—"

"Ooh, aren't we _touchy_," interjected the blond boy nastily. "Don't worry, I won't waste my precious spare time on your beggarly ass, I've got better things to do, a pretty girl to entertain."

Ron's ears rapidly turned red again, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment; this time it was anger. "You're pathetic, Malfoy."

"No," answered Malfoy scornfully. "But you are. At least I know how to be a proper boyfriend. You, on the other hand…" He shook his head, smirking nastily. "Tsk, tsk, Weasley. You've made this young lady over here _very_ unhappy," he said, motioning his head at Hermione. "And you know, she put in _much_ more effort for the date she had on Tuesday. Large amounts of _Sleekeazy's_ and all that. But I understand… I wouldn't try hard for _you_ either…"

"Yeah, Weasley," added Parkinson in an annoyingly high voice. "And you should have seen the jealousy in Granger's eyes when she walked in on us being a proper couple. It's so sad that you've neglected her, no wonder that she ran off with guys like Krum and McLaggen, at least _they_ know how to treat a girl."

"Luckily I've been around her _all the time_, distracting her from your sorry ass. It's a disgusting job, but someone has to do it," said Malfoy with a careless shrug.

Ron launched himself forward at the two Slytherins, but Seamus and Dean had already noticed that something was wrong. They had hurried forward and grabbed Ron's arms, holding him back as the furious redhead tried to release himself from their grip. Malfoy and Parkinson howled with laughter as they left the pub, and Hermione brought her hands to Ron's face, forcing him to look at her.

"Ron, Ron, calm down, don't let them get to you. Don't you see, this is exactly what they were after! They're not worth it, Ron, please!"

He finally managed to get away from his two former dorm mates and glared down at Hermione with anger in his eyes. "What did they mean, Hermione?" he demanded.

Ginny hurried forward as well, trying to calm her brother down. "Ron, stop being ridiculous, you can't honestly believe that there's any truth to Malfoy's words. It's _Malfoy,_ for Merlin's sake! And that ugly troll of a Parkinson is hardly better! Just because Hermione used _Sleekeazy's_ doesn't mean she's dating anyone!"

"She didn't even use it for Bill's wedding! Said it was too much trouble! But she _did_ go through all that _trouble_ to please _Vicky_. And now she's used it on a plain Tuesday at school?"

"Ron!" yelled Hermione, feeling utterly insulted. "You're being ridiculous!"

"Yeah, cause that's just me, isn't it? The _ridiculous_ Ron Weasley, the maker of stupid decisions. Well, I prefer being that than someone who seeks out Slytherins!"

"I did not seek them out!" she snapped indignantly. "I can't help it that they were snogging each other senseless on the couch of the common room, she wasn't even allowed to be in there in the first place, and I was only on my way to bed!"

The moment she had started the sentence she knew she had slipped up.

"What common room?" hissed Ron.

Ginny and Hermione shot each other alarmed looks. "It's not her fault, Ron," said Ginny in a warning tone. "She never asked for it."

"Asked for _what?!"_

"McGonagall has arranged for a separate common room so I can keep an eye on Malfoy," said Hermione softly. "He is not allowed to leave there after dinner. It's just for us as Head students."

He stared at her in silence for a while, apparently at a loss for words. "Why didn't you tell me this?" he demanded angrily. "Are you so at ease with his presence that it _completely_ slipped your mind?"

"Ron—" uttered Hermione.

"I think she didn't tell you because of this," came Luna's airy voice from behind Ron. They all turned their head to look at the little blonde girl, whom they had all forgotten about.

"Because of _what?" _snapped Ron.

The sixth-year Ravenclaw stared up at him with her protuberant grey eyes. "I think you're really nice, Ron, but you are really unkind at times," she told him bluntly. "You seem rather tense about Draco Malfoy, and you're being a bit insensitive towards Hermione. I mean, everyone can see that she doesn't want to be around him. It was really unnecessary to yell at her like that."

"And she talks about being insensitive," muttered Seamus in disbelief, staring at Luna as though he was unsure if he wanted to stay or run. Her straightforwardness clearly didn't earn her any points with him.

Dean sniggered. "She means well," he muttered back. "She's actually all right."

"Luna's right," said Ginny. "You're being such an insensitive arse right now. It's Malfoy you should be mad at, or yourself, for that matter, not Hermione."

Ron shot his younger sister a glare. "Stay out of this, Ginny, this doesn't concern you!" he growled.

"Ron," said Hermione. "Just look at what happened earlier. At the mere mention of Malfoy being Head Boy, the entire mood turned upside-down. We were having such a good time at first. I know you're not happy about this, but neither am I, and you don't hear me yelling at you, either. I knew you wouldn't be able to control your temper, and that's why I didn't tell you."

For a moment it looked like he was going to leave angrily, but after a few moments he sighed and sat down at the bar. "You're right. I'm sorry," he muttered with slight reluctance.

"He sees sense!" exclaimed Ginny as she threw her hands up, only to be grabbed by her older brother. He held her in a headlock, ignoring her loud curses as he roughly rubbed her on the head with his knuckles.

The group laughed and took their seats at the bar as well, ordering a round of butterbeer, moving the earlier incidents to the back of their heads to make the most of their daytrip.

* * *

A/N: Feedback is a wonderful thing that I would greatly appreciate!


	18. Chapter eighteen

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! It's been crazy at work and I've basically spent all my free time searching for and viewing apartments so I can move out of my parents' place and start living in the city where I'm working. I've found the PERFECT little place last week, so fingers crossed that they'll pick me!

As for the story: we're nearing the good stuff. It's probably going to take me a few more chapters to actually GET there, but we're nearing the turning point. The entire storyline is already planned out and I know what's going to happen and when, but getting to those points is sometimes more difficult than I'd planned. I know most of you are just waiting for Dramione to happen, but I hope you do realise that everything I've written so far and everything that I'm still going to write is actually crucial to the entire story, even if it seems insignificant right now.

I hope the next update will be sooner! Happy reading! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

* * *

_**Chapter eighteen**_

Draco and Pansy stood outside the Three Broomsticks, still smirking because of Weasley and the fact that he was easier to anger than a banshee. After a few minutes, however, their amusement ebbed away, and they were left with an unpleasant realisation.

They had just been kicked out of the only comfortable pub in Hogsmeade.

"So," said Pansy slowly, sounding quite unsure. "Now what?"

"I don't know," grimaced Draco. "The idea of sitting in that dungy pub near Tomes and Scrolls doesn't really appeal to me, especially now I know that it's owned by Dumbledore's younger brother. But Puddifoot's is hardly any better."

"It's not _that_ bad, is it?" she replied. "I think I saw Tori and Imogen in there earlier."

"Tori?" asked Draco, raising his eyebrows.

Pansy snorted. "Sorry, I mean Astoria. You know, Daphne's little sister? It's been my nickname for her ever since she first came to Hogwarts. She _hates_ it, which makes it all the more fun."

"I can imagine why, it's a rather distasteful nickname," he commented dryly. "But she's not exactly a _little_ sister anymore, is she?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, she's a gorgeous one," said the brunette, smiling up at him with amusement. "No need to rub that in."

"I'm not _rubbing it in_, I am merely voicing my observations," answered Draco casually, winking at Pansy.

"Observe in silence, you prick," came her retort. She playfully elbowed him in the ribs and shrieked when he tickled her in return, slapping his hands away. They made their way over to Madam Puddifoot's, laughing. Draco entered the tea shop after Pansy, rather reluctantly, and took a good look around, trying to ignore the annoying tuneful tinkle that had announced their arrival. He hadn't been here since his fifth year, when Pansy had dragged him in here on a Valentine's date once, and he had hated sitting amongst the overly-affectionate couples.

Today, the shop was not nearly as crowded as it had been on that particular day, and the decorations weren't as ridiculously frilly as he had remembered. There also weren't as many tables, which was a relief, because last time the stout woman that owned the place had great difficulty moving around her shop. It was quite a cosy place, and Draco decided that he would survive spending the afternoon here.

Pansy had chosen a table in the corner, which had a comfortable corner sofa. After they had settled down, a woman with a shiny, black bun made her over to them.

"Good afternoon, m'dears! What can I get you two?" she said cheerfully.

"I'll have a dandelion coffee, please," answered Draco immediately, not wanting for this woman to linger at their table. Pansy, on the other hand, took her sweet time and stared at the menu with a conflicted expression on her face, clearly not bothered by the fact that Madam Puddifoot was humming a song that sounded awfully out of tune.

"I'll… um… I'll have some hibiscus tea, please," she said finally, handing the menu back to the shop owner with a smile. The corpulent woman left, only to return with their beverages mere moments later.

"Here you go, dears, the cookies are on the house!" she said with an effusive wink. She turned and moved away, leaving them alone at last. Draco glared at the plate with his eyebrows raised in suspicion and revulsion. The cookies were heart-shaped and decorated with a shiny pink glaze.

"You're such a romantic, aren't you," commented Pansy dryly, nibbling on a cookie as she glanced at him, undoubtedly noticing the look in his eyes.

"No," scowled Draco. "I'm not." Despite the fact that the cookies looked hideously sweet, he couldn't help himself and reached out to take one. After having taken a tiny bite, he quickly put the remainder back down and shuddered as he swallowed the snack, quickly gulping down some of his herbal tea.

"Careful, it might be too sweet for your taste," said the Slytherin girl in an appropriately sweet tone, smirking at his facial expression.

They enjoyed their warm beverages in silence for a while and watched their fellow Slytherins, who were sitting by the window. Pansy had been right when she had claimed to have seen Astoria and Imogen Stretton earlier. They were still here, sharing a table with Holden Ledbury and Niles Hanley. It looked as though they were having a double-date, and for reasons he didn't quite understand, he somehow found himself questioning whether Hanley was an appropriate date for Astoria Greengrass, even though he was a nice guy with whom Draco got along just fine. He frowned slightly. Why would he care? He barely even knew the girl.

"So I suppose it's true after all, judging the look on her face when she saw us sitting there," said Pansy softly after a while, pulling him from his thoughts. "You did cast the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta, didn't you?" she elucidated when he shot her a questioning look.

Draco's wince was enough confirmation for her, and she instantly closed the subject, moving on to a lengthy complaint about how stubbornly annoying Sally-Anne had been when Tracey and Daphne had wanted to throw a girls-only party in the seventh-year dormitory the night before.

They went from one conversation to the next, enjoying the fact that they were finally able to properly have some quality time with each other. Time passed, and they vaguely noticed Stretton and Ledbury leaving the tea shop, holding hands.

"—so then she wrote me that my aunt wasn't planning on coming over during Christmas, and—"

"Hey, guys," said Astoria, interrupting Pansy.

"Mind if we join you for a last drink?" asked Hanley. "It's nearly six, we should be getting back soon, if we don't want to walk."

"Oh, sure, sit down," said Pansy, snapping her fingers in the air to notify Madam Puddifoot that they wanted to order another round of drinks. The plump witch immediately rushed to their table and delivered their drinks moments later.

"Are you two dating?" the older Slytherin girl asked Astoria curiously, pointing at the sixth-year Slytherin boy that was accompanying her.

"Of sorts," said the younger Greengrass with a small smile. "We're actually still just in the early stages of getting to know each other.

Niles Hanley smirked complacently, sending Draco a quick wink as he put his hand down on Astoria's left knee. The group of four drank their hot beverages and had some light-hearted chats. Draco and Hanley discussed the latest Quidditch match from the North American League Cup and Pansy and Astoria shared the latest gossip after apparently catching up with each other. Draco couldn't help but smile at times; he had never seen Pansy act so sisterly before, it really brought out her rare softer side.

Before long it was time to make their way back to the High Street where the carriages were waiting to take the students back to Hogwarts. They all climbed into the same carriage, and Draco couldn't help but enjoy sitting between the two girls, who were both pressed against him so all four of them could fit onto the couch.

They were one of the last groups to arrive back, and the gates closed once their carriage rode onto the grounds. Professor Copperfield and Professor Flitwick waved their wands to once again seal the gates with the proper protective spells and wards. Draco and Pansy followed the rest of their fellow school mates back inside, and he received a quick kiss on his mouth before she hurried to catch up with Hanley and Astoria, who were already descending the stairs to the dungeons. Draco sighed, his good mood from this great day quickly leaving when the reality of his punishment set in again. He made his way up to his own quarters in the Head's Tower quickly and tiredly. Once he had muttered the password and made his way inside, entering the common room, something rushed in his direction.

_SLAP!_

Completely taken aback, Draco dropped his bags of newly purchased Quidditch supplies and brought his hand to his left cheek, which was burning rather painfully already. He stared down at the girl in front of him, who was glaring up at him with such passionate anger that he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"What the _hell_, Granger," he finally managed to hiss venomously, willing for his glare to be lethal.

"That, Malfoy," hissed Granger back. "is for being absolutely loathsome. You disgust me. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you are honestly insufferable. How dare you harass Ron like that, do you really not care about anything?!"

"I care about a lot of things, Mudblood, but that dense Weasel is not one of them," growled Draco. Having gotten over the shock, he stepped forward and grabbed her arms, tightly holding on no matter how fiercely she tried to free herself. "Are you really that arrogant to believe that you'll get away with this again?" he threatened softly, knowing that his quiet anger was much more intimidating than his loud and vocal anger. "I'm not thirteen anymore, and neither are you, and quite frankly, Granger, I see no reason why I shouldn't have my revenge retrospective."

"You wouldn't," she breathed, but the doubt in both her voice and her eyes was evident.

"Are you sure about that?" he hissed as he glared down at her.

Granger glared back at him with the most hateful look in her eyes he had ever seen from her. "If you so much as raise your hand I'll make sure you'll get expelled, even if it's the last thing I'll do."

"Yeah, that's what you'd like, huh? To completely ruin my life?"

"How dare you!" she snapped. "You know what? Ron was right, you _are_ pathetic! All you do is blame others for everything that goes wrong in your life when _you're_ the one who keeps making wrong decisions! I called Ron an insensitive arse earlier today, but compared to you, he's in fact a very considerate person!"

"Oh stop the drama, you know I don't like him, never have, that's not likely to change, _ever_," snapped Draco in annoyance.

"I know that, and I accept that," Granger retorted angrily. "But you went _completely_ out of your way to insult him in every way possible. His _brother_ died only a few months ago, show some consideration!"

"Why should I? It's not like _he_ ever showed some consideration about Crabbe and he was _there_, he saw it _happen!" _he hissed before realising that he had once again slipped up.

She went silent for a little while, staring up at him with a much softer expression on her face than she had moments earlier. "That's because up until now, none of us knew that you actually cared for them," she said softly.

Draco let go of her in surprise and took a step back. "What?"

"This shouldn't come as a surprise to you," she said carefully, rubbing her forearms with a slightly pained expression on her face. "You bossed them around the way your kind treats house-elves. I don't remember you ever showing concern for them, and quite frankly, I've always been under the impression that you thought they were rather stupid."

"They are!" he snapped indignantly. "But just because they were _stupid_ doesn't mean they're not my friends! You don't know a thing about me, stop assuming that you do!"

"You might not have noticed, but throwing out assumptions is the only way for me to get to know you," said Granger. "You're so _guarded_ all the time, even _if_ Crabbe and Goyle weren't so unintelligent I doubt they would have figured out that you actually considered them as your friends. You don't open up unless you're angry!"

"And that's completely intentional, Granger. I've told you before, I don't _want_ you to get to know me! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

She stepped back and sighed tiredly, shaking her head. "Never mind. I see you're still very determined to make this year as unpleasant as possible." She turned around at once and made her way up the stairs to her dormitory. Draco groaned in frustration, kicked the bag with his newly purchased Quidditch robes across the common room and sank down onto the couch, not even as much as attempting to fight back the guilt he was feeling for apparently hurting her arms.

X X X

_**Monday, 9 November 1998**_

"Mr Malfoy, Ms Parkinson, I'd like to have a word with you two, please," called Professor Wilberforce. Draco and Pansy exchanged a look of dread and turned back around to face their Professor. Pansy hissed a delightful insult to their obnoxious Ravenclaw classmate Sue Li, who sniggered as she closed the door behind her, leaving the two Slytherins and the Professor alone in the Muggle Studies classroom.

"Please join me at my desk," said Wilberforce, gesturing to the row of tables in front of her desk. Draco reluctantly followed Pansy and sat down, wondering what they had done.

"I have looked through your improved essays, and it is with regret that I have to inform you that there was hardly any improvement there," said the old woman with a sigh. "I have discussed the matter with Professor McGonagall and we have come to the conclusion that this class isn't helping at all because you two seem to be too stubborn to have an open mind about this subject. These essays," she motioned at the rolls of parchment on her desk. "are horribly insufficient and I doubt whether you have read the book at all. You also haven't given me the names of the Muggle family you will be visiting soon and considering you have to have enough time for the necessary arrangements I'm afraid I must press this matter. If I don't receive names by the end of this week, you will both be serving detention until the Christmas holidays _and_ I will assign you to a family myself."

Draco was about to protest and exclaim what a preposterous idea this was, and that he would not have a part in this, but the uncharacteristic silence beside him stopped him. He glanced sideways and saw Pansy staring at her lap with a tired and miserable expression on her face. Slightly taken aback by her lack of vocal protest and response altogether, he forgot to protest himself.

Wilberforce rose from her chair and gestured for them to get up as well. They crossed the classroom and made for the door, which the old woman opened slightly before turning back to face them. "Has either of you heard from Mr Zabini whether or not he is planning to start attending these classes again?" she inquired.

"What do you _think?"_ said Pansy sharply, comforting Draco by showing her usual fierce behaviour. Wilberforce sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. The two Slytherins exited the classroom and Wilberforce followed, locking the door behind her. "Remember," she said, shooting them a stern glance. "I want to see you back in my office before the weekend." They quickly moved away from her and passed the Advanced Arithmancy classroom just as Granger and the Ravenclaw Patil exited it.

"Oh, Mr Malfoy!" called Professor Wilberforce as she caught up with him and Pansy, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a smile that he interpreted as an attempt at being involved and helpful. "Since you and Ms Granger have been spending, and will continue to spend a great deal of time together, why don't you ask her for assistance?" With those words, she moved past the four students and disappeared into the East Wing.

Granger and Patil exchanged a confused look. "Assistance with what?" asked Patil with a frown.

"How about you mind your own boring business, _Padma_," snapped Pansy.

"Sweet Merlin, Pansy, what's with the hostility?" said Patil indignantly, grabbing Granger's arm and pulling her toward the Entrance Hall. The Head Girl shot another confused look at him over her shoulder before following Patil into the Great Hall for lunch.

"I can't believe you were friends with that girl," said Draco as he and Pansy entered the Great Hall as well.

"Not this again," groaned Pansy. "I was _nine_, leave me alone. We all were one big bunch of happy friends at Charms school."

"I also still can't believe that your parents sent you to Charms school, they could have easily hired you a personal tutor, like my parents did for me." They sat down at the Slytherin table across from Nott and Davis, who were sharing a large leather-bound book for their Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. Both looked up briefly to greet them and then continued to take notes while absentmindedly taking bites from their sandwiches.

Pansy reached for the pumpkin juice and a sandwich with smoked salmon. "We've talked about this before," she said in an annoyed and impatient tone. "Some people, like my mother, value social skills, which is why I went to Charms school, to socialise with other children."

"I know that," answered Draco with a smirk. "No need for the attitude. I just think it's amusing, since you never actually spoke with any of your old _friends_ again since you were sorted in Slytherin."

"That's not the point, Draco. The point is that at least I knew how to approach people, whereas _you_ had no experience whatsoever. How you ended up having friends is beyond me, and just this once I'll openly take Potter's side. He did the right thing when he refused your so-called _offer_ of friendship."

Nott, who had just taken a gulp from his goblet, chocked on his pumpkin juice and started making noises that sounded suspiciously like a mixture of coughing and laughter, making Tracey Davis jump slightly. She frowned at him with a mix of annoyance and slight concern as she hit his back repeatedly. After a minute or so, Nott took in deep breaths and the colour from his cheeks slowly faded. "Oh my, I completely forgot about that," he sighed with a smirk. "How _did_ you approach that again? Boast, insult and hope for the best, right?"

Draco stared at the scene before him with an arched eyebrow and a building anger, catching himself hoping Nott would start suffering from dyspnoea and choke to death.

Right before starting his first year, his father had told him that Harry Potter would join him at Hogwarts and that he should try his hardest to become friends with the legendary young boy, but he had been horribly unprepared. He had been ignorant of the fact that Potter was raised by Muggles and knew nothing of the Wizarding World until he had received his acceptance letter, and by the time Draco had found him again on the train, Potter had was already in the early stages of becoming friends with Weasley. Insulting the latter had not quite helped his cause.

Looking back on that day now, he realised he had approached the matter completely wrong. Pansy was right when she said that he was inexperienced at making friends: he had never had to do so before; people automatically tried to get into his good graces because of his family name and status, and it wasn't until his second year that he started developing a skill at being quite charming and persuasive.

Nott had undoubtedly seen the look in his eyes, because after giving him a small smirk he bend over the book again, scribbling down some more notes. Davis was smart enough to pretend she hadn't noticed a thing, and Pansy sighed as she passed Draco the bacon sandwiches.

"Can you stop being so easily offended all the time?" she muttered. "We're just teasing. You're starting to become even less fun than Blaise if you go on like this."

"I _heard_ that, Pansy," said Zabini from behind them, his tone betraying that he was feeling rather annoyed and insulted. He sat down next to her and snatched the last roasted beef sandwich from the platter, shooting an ice-cold glare at the scrawny second-year Slytherin who had reached for the sandwich at the same time. The young boy pulled back his hand instantly and stared at Zabini as though he had never seen a scarier thing in his life, which could very well be true.

"Sorry for hurting your fragile ego, Blaise," said Pansy in her sweetest tone. "And by the way, dear Professor Wilberforce sends her kindest regards and wants you to know that she misses your presence in class dearly."

The look of disgust on Zabini's face was absolutely priceless, but they all knew better than to continue taunting him. He had been horribly touchy lately, and they all knew that it was because the entire teaching staff was constantly on his back. He was refusing to attend more and more classes and his rebellious attitude was increasing considerably. The few classes he still attended were continuously disturbed by his careless behaviour and he had been sent to McGonagall's office at least once a day for the past few weeks.

The group of seventh-year Slytherins were aware of his motives: he desperately wanted to be kicked out of Hogwarts, but it was as though McGonagall knew what he was up to, and she had only given him continuous detention so far. Zabini had unwillingly degraded himself to Argus Filch's permanent assistant, and they all knew that there was nothing the dark-skinned Slytherin hated more than this so-called house-elf treatment.

Greengrass arrived shortly after Zabini and sat down next to Nott. They all ate their lunch, quietly discussing meaningless subjects. Zabini made it clear that he had no desire to be included in these conversations, so they all decided to ignore him, an easy task for everyone but Pansy, who was the only one in their year that truly got along well with the dark-skinned boy, most of the time.

Zabini had finished his sandwich in no time and disappeared from the Great Hall as fast as he could. The others stared after him and Draco sighed. He understood his classmate so well, yet at the same time he didn't understand him at all. If _he_ would behave like this, his father would undoubtedly curse him into oblivion, and he didn't think Mrs Zabini would resort to different punishment.

"I don't think he's going to last much longer," muttered Nott to his classmates. "I overheard the Headmistress talk to the Heads of Houses yesterday in the staff room, and they are on the verge of having him expelled."

"Meaning Zabini's winning yet another round," huffed Greengrass.

"What else can they do?" asked Davis with a frown. "He's constantly trying to ruin everything, not only for himself, but for the rest of us as well. We're struggling enough as it is, being in Slytherin in these times, I refuse to have _him_ ruin all chances we might have to get rid of our current reputation."

Draco decided not to contribute to the conversation for Pansy's sake. She was staring at her empty plate and looked both irritated and a bit sad. They would never admit it to anyone, but Draco knew Pansy and Zabini really cared for each other. The other girls knew that they were friends, but they didn't understand why Pansy seemed to like the boy, as he was always rude and arrogant. Davis was able to tolerate him, but Greengrass wasn't, and she made it no secret that she really disliked her dark-skinned classmate. Then again, Davis had no choice but to tolerate him. Her half-blood status had caused quite some trouble for her in their first year, but she had soon adapted to the predominantly pureblood culture and over the years she had proven to be a worthy Slytherin, and even Pansy had started to like her.

"I definitely won't miss him," said Greengrass coldly. She glanced at her best friend and her expression softened a little. "Chin up, Pansy. You've done what you could. It's not your fault that he's an insufferable arse."

"Right," answered Pansy softly. "And you can't help that you're an insensitive wench."

"I could if I wanted to," countered the blonde with a straight face. "But I'm quite content with the way I am. And I know you are too."

Pansy was able to keep an angry face for five seconds before she sighed and shot a small smile at Greengrass. They all gathered their things and made their way to the Entrance Hall. Nott made his way up for Ancient Studies and Pansy went outside for her Care of Magical Creatures class. Draco followed Greengrass and Davis down to the dungeons to spend their free period in the Slytherin common room.

X

After dinner, Draco made his way up to the sixth floor. He entered the common room, expecting it to be empty, but much to his disappointment he found Granger sitting on the couch, quite obviously waiting for him. Knowing the Gryffindor well enough by now to know that he wouldn't be able to go up to his dormitory to avoid whatever it was she had planned for him, he halted behind the first armchair and raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to get it over with, whatever 'it' might be.

"Malfoy, about the other day," she said, making a slightly uncomfortable impression. "I want to apologise for slapping you. It was uncalled for."

"You're damn right it was uncalled for," spat Draco back instantly. "If it weren't for your bloody sacrosanct status within this school, I would have reported it to the Headmistress by now. What kind of twisted world do we live in where the bloody _Head Girl_ gets away with physically assaulting a fellow student?"

Granger frowned at him. "I would hardly call it assault. And I doubt you would have reported it. You never did that back in our third year even though you had every right."

"What thirteen year old guy would willingly admit to having been slapped by a girl?" grumbled Draco softly, not quite able to look her in the eye. "And not just any girl, a Gryffindor Mudblood, no less."

"Please, Malfoy, you don't actually expect me to believe that?" she replied scornfully. "You've spent _weeks_ pretending to be severely injured, twisting it in every possible way to get what you wanted. You could have used this to make things extremely difficult for me, yet you did _nothing_."

Draco glared at her, feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn't quite know how to respond. There was no way in hell he would admit to her that he had been too shocked to have his revenge, that her actions had caused for him to grudgingly develop a certain amount of respect for the girl. She was able to stand up for herself and put him in his place. She refused to be bullied and never responded quite the way he wanted her to, which made her unique.

"I don't know why you're giving me that look, but I'm not actually expecting you to explain yourself," said Granger carefully, pulling him from his thoughts. He refocused on her and saw that she was giving him a suspicious look. "However," she continued. "I do want to explain myself, if you care to hear it, that is."

He sighed, not only because he was annoyed by her, but also to mask his slight curiosity. The slapping incident from years ago had left quite an impression on him, and he wasn't just talking about the literal one on his face. He had never quite figured out what he had done to deserve being slapped. He knew the trio had been angry with him for messing with that Hippogriff, and he knew they were fiercely defensive of the stupid half-giant, but Granger had never responded to him the way she did then, not even when he had called her a Mudblood for the first time, not even a year later when he had made those buttons for Potter in their fourth year, or when he had come up with that song to humiliate Weasley in their sixth year. He sat down in the armchair and waited for her explanation.

"At the end of our second year, as you know, we had to choose additional classes for the next years. I was unable to rule out any subjects, so I picked every class available."

"Every single one?" said Draco with a frown. "But—"

"—that's impossible. I know. That's what Professor McGonagall told me, too," sighed Granger. "But because she saw great potential in me, she said she would try to help me find a way. At the beginning of our third year, she had found one. I received a Time-Turner from the Ministry."

Draco gaped at her in shock and knew he was doing a very poor job trying to hide how he felt. "_A Time-Turner?!" _he snapped in disbelief. "Is there anything you _don't_ get special treatment for?!"

She shot a glare at him. "You might be able to imagine how exhausting it is to follow twice the amount of classes and having to do double the amount of homework," she continued, not bothering to reply to his accusation. "I had to keep it a secret from everyone, not even Harry and Ron were allowed to know. On top of that, you and your father went after Buckbeak and did everything you could to make sure he would be sentenced to death. The little free time I had I spent in the library, trying to build a case for Hagrid, to save Buckbeak. On top of that, I had been fighting steadily with Ron ever since the preceding summer, and Harry wasn't talking to me because I had Professor McGonagall take away his Firebolt for examination. By the time we came across you, we had _just_ made up, and I was beyond the point of exhaustion. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you said exactly the wrong thing. I must admit that me slapping you wasn't even personal. I…" Granger briefly hesitated. "I guess I used you as a means to get rid of all the emotions I had bottled up inside me caused by different events."

He listened to her story, and the uneasy feeling he had become quite accustomed to by now spread through his stomach again. It was simply bizarre what this girl in front of him had done and achieved, what she had been through. How was it possible that someone like her, who had been entirely oblivious of the magical world until her eleventh birthday, was so skilled at it? How could she be so strong?

"What about Saturday?" he managed to ask. Granger's facial expression changed, and he could tell that she didn't want to explain this to him. "You know you owe me an explanation," he said, arching his eyebrow.

"I—" she took a deep breath and looked down. "Fine," she muttered. "If you must know, Ron and I have been sort of together for over a year now. The War made things quite a bit more complicated, and until recently he had been overpowered by grief for his brother. We took a major step back, and last Saturday things were finally getting better again. Until you came along, that is." The Gryffindor girl looked up and glared at him accusingly. "I hadn't told him about the Head's Tower because I knew his temper would get the better of him, and you just _had_ to come along and ruin it."

"So you slapped me because I ruined your chances? That's petty, Granger."

"No, Malfoy," she snapped angrily. "I slapped you because you're messing with the insecurities of someone I love. I slapped you because in the past few months, you've been making life unnecessarily difficult for me. I slapped you because I hoped that would help you see some sense!"

Draco looked at her in anger. "I have already seen the light, Granger, thank you very much. We've talked about this before. A person doesn't change overnight, and it's not like you've been very encouraging and helpful. If you want to make this work, _you_ will have to make some changes too."

"Like what?" she huffed.

"You could start by not sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong," he sneered. "And I would appreciate it if you would rethink your decisions. I have been trying really hard to please the entire bloody school, but you have yet to acknowledge that. I would bloody like to get out of this tower!"

Granger narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before sighing and sitting back against the pillows on the couch. "Okay. Fine," she said with clear reluctance. "I'll go talk to Professor McGonagall."

Under the impression that she was done, Draco rose from the chair and crossed the common room with the intention of going up to his dormitory, but he was stopped before he could reach the stairs.

"Malfoy, wait," called the Head Girl.

"Now what," he grumbled with annoyance as he turned back around to face her.

"Professor Wilberforce came to talk to me this afternoon to ask a favour," she announced before pausing with her lips pressed together. "And I've agreed to look through your essay. It's the least I can do to make up for slapping you, I guess."

"Oh no, Granger," snapped Draco. "Don't you dare to pretend you're doing this for me, it's just another chance for you to stick your nose into other people's business. I don't _want_ your help!"

"I know you don't," she replied softly. "But from what Professor Wilberforce told me, you really need it. And I want to help."

He remained silent for a while, trying to stay calm. He was angry, but he didn't really know who it was his anger was directed to. He was angry at Wilberforce for going behind his back and he was angry at Granger for once again eagerly sticking her nose into his business. He was also incredibly annoyed because this meant that he would, once again, be paired up with the Gryffindor know-it-all. Draco knew that refusing Granger's help would result in trouble, not only with his Muggle Studies Professor but also for himself, because he knew that if he didn't get sufficient marks for this bloody class, McGonagall wouldn't let him take his N.E.W.T.s., and there was no way he was going to be able to write a sufficient essay on his own.

"Fine," he sighed in defeat.

Granger revealed the tiniest of smiles and nodded. "Alright," she said. "Just let me know when you want to do this." She turned away from him and reached for the book on the coffee table, which Draco took as a sign that their conversation was over and that he was allowed to leave. He immediately rushed up the stairs, closed the door of his dorm behind him and dropped down on the bed, desperately trying to clear his head and forget about everything Granger had told him this evening. After a little while, he sat back up and reluctantly reached for the book _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._

The fact that he needed Granger's help was humiliating enough; there was no way he was going to be unprepared, even if it meant learning all about _Muggles._

* * *

A/N: I would appreciate if you would take the time to give me a bit of feedback in a review!


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